


The Wretched Tides Of Every Sea

by norikae



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Coming of Age, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Slice of Life, this will mostly be a fun ride do not worry my children I too desire rest, when you date someone for week and then realise u want to date them for life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-15 01:11:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17519324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/norikae/pseuds/norikae
Summary: Minhyuk undertakes to date school sweetheart, Yoo Kihyun, for a week, if only to placate his best friend's irritation at his endless pining. It's all fun and games, he'll get over his weird massive crush, and other incentives to boot: there is no conceivable downside. Right?...Right?





	1. Monday

**Author's Note:**

> "Didn't you literally just finish 21k of kihyuk" Well yes OP has been possessed by them and no, OP does not want to talk about it.
> 
> This fic is loosely inspired by the manga, Seven Days. It doesn't follow the plot there, though. If Ki is a little unbearable at first, don't worry; that's part of the story. Chapters will most likely get longer as we go on!

“You're in love with Yoo Kihyun.”

Minhyuk tilts his head, and smiles with all of his teeth, eyes glinting in the low light. “And what about it?”

Hyungwon heaves a massive sigh, sinking his face into one large, bony hand. In the warm lamplight of their booth he washes out into shades of yellow and deep brown, large round eyes two spots of brightness in his face. “He's, like, a fancy bitch, dude.”

Minhyuk stirs his iced latte with no small amount of petulance. “Don't call him that,” he chides warningly. “He's really sweet.” He pauses, taking a long drag from the straw. “I think, anyway.”

The remark earns him a noisy groan, a loud rumbling sound. “You've spoken to him what, once?”

Minhyuk purses his lips, tosses his head, and then smiles, peeling his lips open as he does. “ _Twice_ ,” he corrects. “The other day, I dropped my History text as he walked by, and he picked it up for me.”

Minhyuk sighs, clutching his hand to his chest. “He's _so_ dreamy.”

Hyungwon narrows his eyes suspiciously. “You did it on purpose, didn't you,” he accuses. “You don't even bring your texts to class half the time.”

Minhyuk drops the pose and rests his head in his hands, propping it up on the table. “Okay, maybe,” he confesses, “But you know. I wouldn't be able to talk to him, otherwise.”

“Which is why I was saying you're absolutely batshit.” Hyungwon tips his empty glass to his mouth and extracts an ice cube with his teeth, ceremoniously beginning to crunch upon it.

He numbers off points on his knobbly, long fingers as he goes. “You barely know the guy.” _One._ “All you're going on is hearsay and the little puppet theatre of your mind.” _Two._ “We have like, three confirmed facts about him.” _Three_.

“ _And_ ” - here he keeps his fingers, lacing them together instead with his other hand so he can rest his elbows on the table, “Your lone other interaction was, like, when you accidentally stumbled upon him giving someone the weekly breakup speech and somehow decided he was perfect to fixate upon, thus leading us into this mess in the first place.” He crunches particularly loudly at this juncture. “Plus, we're kind of losers, Min, I think you'd be better off dating someone from art club.”

That, of course, being the club they're both in. Minhyuk had joined because he genuinely likes and is good at art, and Hyungwon had gone along because Minhyuk was joining, and also because they let him lie down when working on his pieces during club time. Strange how none of the sports clubs seemed to want to let him do that.

“I ranked Platinum in Overwatch for five seasons straight,” Minhyuk protests. “Maining _D.Va._ Do you have any idea what an achievement that is? Solo stack DPSes be crazy.”

Hyungwon gives him a look like he's just stood up and given a complex political manifesto in French. “Point… proven,” he says, very slowly. Like a fleshy spout, his mouth curls outwards towards the glass he has tipped in his direction, and extracts another ice cube very precisely, crunching noisily on it as he goes.

Minhyuk sniffles in response, clearly grievously offended. “Don't let Hoseok-hyung hear you say that, anyway. He'll get all sad and then he'll ruin all of our watercolour paintings by crying onto them.” He pauses. “Again.”

Shin Hoseok: Art Club president, resident bleeding heart. Legend has it he quit the rugby team after the first day because he didn't like having to push people over. And then joined the art club to stop all the other sports teams from quibbling over who got to enlist him, where he’s stayed painting woodland creatures and potting plants ever since. Minhyuk privately thinks he has a thing for Hyungwon; investigations are ongoing.

Hyungwon hums noncommittally, like he takes the point but also doesn’t want to ever have to tell Minhyuk he’s right. “Hoseok-hyung does deserve better,” he concedes, absently kneading his own tiny cheeks in thought. “Anyway, your Yoo Kihyun obsession is getting out of hand. I’m staging an intervention.”

“You and what army,” Minhyuk scoffs, “You can’t stage your own homework-completion sessions.” Pause. “You owe me, what, three chimaek dates now, by the way. That math homework was _hard._ ”

Hyungwon hisses through his teeth like an angry reptile. “You’re right,” he says anyway, easily conceding the point.

Then his brows lift in a comical _Eureka_ as he seems to think of something. “Oh hold on. Look. I’ll make it a trip to the amusement park _and_ I’ll cover your ass in History for the rest of the year if you do me this one, tiny little favour.”

Minhyuk narrows his eyes. History is the one subject Hyungwon effortlessly excels in despite never ever being awake. His theory is that it’s because Hyungwon is a zombie who _actually_ lived through all of those events, so of course he’d have an easy time of it all. “What is it?” he asks, considering.

His best friend and resident parasite beams broadly, looking deceptively sweet as he does. “Be Yoo Kihyun’s one week boyfriend.”

Minhyuk chokes on the air in his straw. “What the hell, dude,” he sputters, “I can’t do that! Then he’ll know I have a - a thing for him, or whatever!”

Hyungwon’s gaze is long, and steady, and completely devoid of any life whatsoever. “On Friday you climbed onto a desk during recess so you could get a better vantage point to see where he was taking last week’s girl,” he deadpans. “In front of the entire class.”

Minhyuk pouts. “They don’t know what I was looking at,” he says, “I could’ve been admiring the landscaping. We pay school fees for that, you know.”

“Our classroom overlooks the barren parade square.” Hyungwon jabs aimlessly at the ice in his glass with his straw. “Also you shoved Donghan away from his seat so you could scale _his_ table while saying, and I quote, _Stop obstructing my view of Yoo Kihyun_. I think it’s safe to say it isn’t exactly a secret.”

Minhyuk’s lower lip envelops his upper one just a bit more. “That isn’t to say he knows,” he protests, purely for the sake of it.

“It really isn’t to say he _doesn’t_ , either.” Hyungwon reaches over wordlessly for Minhyuk's now empty glass, sliding his over in a trade. With the straw he fishes out another ice cube to crunch on.

“It's not like he'll reject you, or anything. It's literally his thing. You just have to be the first one to ask him and you'll be his babe of the week. He went out with everybody, even that kid who keeps trying to give out stag beetles.”

“Leave Hansol alone, he's a nice kid. Cute, too.” Minhyuk purses his lips. “And yeah, but then after that he never talks to them ever again. _Ever_. I don't think I could live with that.”

Hyungwon waves dismissively. “He's Kkungie's classmate or something, I'm not dissing him. It's just that one really does not know what to do with that many beetles.” Then he crosses his arms. “Look, I'm just pitching an idea here, but dating him for a week will give you your time to shine and get whatever it is out of your system. Besides, it's not like you're exactly enjoying optimum intimacy right now, you know?”

He pauses for a moment, contemplating. “Like, it's your choice, though. No pressure, or anything.” _Crunch, crunch, crunch_.

Minhyuk mulls it over for a second more. “I get to be his boyfriend for a whole seven days,” he says.

Hyungwon nods.

“Every testimonial ever has said he's the perfect gentleman, ideal boyfriend, an incredible sweetheart, and that it was worth every second,” he continues.

Hyungwon looks vaguely skeptical, but raises his eyebrows in a silent gesture for him to _continue, I'm listening_ nonetheless.

“There's literally no chance he'll say no. I get to see his fabled charms for myself, hold his sweet hands in mine at last. _And_ you'll give me Lotte World tix.”

“And free access to all my History notes for the rest of the year.”

“And free access to all your History notes for the rest of the year,” Minhyuk echoes, almost as dreamy as when he's talking about Yoo Kihyun. “A man could pass with that fabled resource.”

Hyungwon smiles a little bit, acknowledging the praise. “You could, yes,” he says, “Although I'm sure you could do that yourself, too.”

Minhyuk snorts dismissively. “Study? When I could nick your hard work for free? I don't think so.” He laughs. “Okay, you know what, dude, you've sold me. Tomorrow’s Monday, right? I'll ask him out tomorrow.”

Hyungwon gives a start. The ice cube he's chewing on nearly escapes his mouth. “Really? You'll do it?”

Minhyuk honestly hasn’t given it that much thought, but it sounds like a brilliant idea thus far. “Yeah, sure,” he says, shrugging. “What could go wrong?”

 

-

 

Monday finds Minhyuk hovering anxiously by the apple tree in the courtyard, eyes darting about, scanning the crowd of students milling in in search of his particular target. To avoid making eye contact with too many people he ducks deeper into the shade of the tree, trying desperately to scope people out from the safety of the shadow.

His phone buzzes. Minhyuk glances down to see a text from Hyungwon.

_hyeonueoni_

are u on the hunt

the prowl

Minhyuk rolls his eyes, tapping out a quick reply, gaze flickering between the crowd and his screen distractedly.

_minyokku_

youre the one who put me up to this

cursed cryptid

but yea i dont see him tho

He pauses, mid-sentence, a sudden thought occurring to him.

_minyokku_

hold on one fucking second

are you spying on me?????

_hyeonueoni_

look up, dumbass

The moment he sees the message preview Minhyuk casts his eyes upwards, squinting against the sun to look around until he remembers he’s right in front of a classroom building. From one of the windows on the second floor a familiar small, fluffy brown head pokes out, its owner waving lazily at him. After a moment he produces his phone and waves it in Minhyuk’s direction before looking down at it, tapping out a message as he goes.

_hyeonueoni_

morning angel did you forget where our classroom is

_minyokku_

shut the fuck up

He isn't normally this easily riled up, especially given the sheer amount of ribbing he and Hyungwon engage in on a regular basis. But today something is rattling about his chest, the offbeat _ratatatatat_ shortening his fuse and heightening his anxiety. Minhyuk turns off his screen and looks back towards the school gate, slightly impatiently.

Then he sees him. Amidst the throng of students is a dark brown, wavy-haired head. Minhyuk traces the line of his profile, and feels momentarily intimidated before he shakes himself. _Snap out of it. You’re pretty cute too._

And he is; Minhyuk has had to turn down his own fair share of admirers. Steeling his nerves, Minhyuk leaves his post with one last glance back at Hyungwon’s skulking form, and then proceeds to set off on a beeline for his target. He walks with such determination that he causes a few people to veer out of the way in surprise, but Minhyuk doesn’t - can’t afford - to stop to apologise, knowing if he does that he’ll lose his momentum and chicken out.

When he approaches Yoo Kihyun, it is to see that he has slowed down upon seeing the minor ruckus, eyebrows lifting in some confusion and amusement. He probably has an inkling of what’s about to happen when Minhyuk storms up to him, chest heaving, and raises a hand between them both, pointing at him in the face.

“You,” Minhyuk says, “Be my one-week boyfriend.” Then he remembers to add, “Please.”

Yoo Kihyun cracks a grin at the demand. He’s - he’s devastatingly handsome, actually, which Minhyuk had known, but to actually witness it first hand winds him in a way that he hadn’t entirely been prepared for. Then the words fall out of his mouth. “How do you know nobody else has asked me yet, though?”

Minhyuk hesitates. He hadn’t actually considered that as a possibility. “Well. I don’t.” He shifts, uncertain and suddenly self-conscious given the loss of steam. “Have they?”

He is rewarded with a laugh, the sound high and husky. “Cute,” Yoo Kihyun teases, “No, you’re really the first.”

Minhyuk’s cheeks are warm. He knows this. Abruptly he feels the embarrassment catching up to him. “That’s - you,” he starts, then spins around on his heel, ready to abandon his mission and race back to class and let Hyungwon laugh at him for a while before he proceeds to never think of Yoo Kihyun ever again.

But he isn’t allowed to when the school Casanova catches him by the wrist, lightly spinning him around to face him. Yoo Kihyun looks up at him through his perfect fringe and says, “Aw, come on, I was only teasing.” The hand on his blazer is a gentle, solid presence when he tilts his head charmingly, looking genuinely sorry. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you. Don’t let me down, please?”

And Minhyuk has heard the stories - having dated one person a week throughout the entirety of their first year, there is no shortage of testimonials that corroborate the same claim - Yoo Kihyun is charming, a perfect gentleman, knows exactly what to say to make any situation better. During the one week you date him there is nothing you could want for. Nonetheless the attention makes him fidget when he stutters, “Let - let you down?”

His arm feels strangely cold where the other boy has let go of his previous grasp. “I’d be really disappointed if you gave me hope and then took it away just like that,” he says, eyes locked with Minhyuk’s not wavering at all.

What an objectively greasy line. Minhyuk’s mouth is dry, anyway, when he opens it, and says, “Well. Um. Yeah, I’d like that. Be my one-week boyfriend. Yeah.”

A smile blossoms across Yoo Kihyun’s features. He has cheek dimples, Minhyuk notices, slightly dazed. _Dimples. In his_ cheeks _. What a man_. He takes out a pen and a card of brown paper from his pocket and scribbles on it for a while before handing it to Minhyuk, the line of his mouth wide and sweet. “My number,” he says, tilting his head and smiling as he says it. “Text me, okay?”

Minhyuk’s hand closes around the card, robotically; his eyes are round and his voice takes a while to come out when he squeaks, “Okay.”

The school year is very young. In the last dregs of spring the sun falls gently onto Yoo Kihyun’s brown locks, the elegant line of his profile; Minhyuk blames a sudden chill breeze slipping under his collar for the way he draws closer to the boy, unable to stop himself.

Next to him Yoo Kihyun smiles, knowingly, and takes his hand, linking their fingers loosely. Their hands slot together with an impossible ease. “You’re in 2B, right? I’ll walk you to class,” he hums, “Unless you don’t want me to?”

That look has so much devotion in it he startles. Minhyuk’s heart is a desperate, asthmatic creature in his chest when he barely manages a “Please do,” scrambling to keep up with the other. A few students who are trailing in now must notice their linked hands, given the whispers that line their way into the building. _I might be in over my head here_ , Minhyuk thinks.

It’s going to be a very, very long week.

 


	2. Tuesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's really just here to exorcise his silly crush by undergoing actual exposure to the target. Basic science, really.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "op u just updated. dude are you ok" shhhhhh just read the story

“So, what do you wanna do today?”

Minhyuk looks up at Kihyun, who is sitting opposite him at lunch, face resting on his hand. They’d both bought standard lunch sets, and had finished in relative silence, too hungry to focus on conversation. Now Minhyuk is vacuuming up his orange juice through the straw, and blinks at the unexpected question.

“What?” he asks, confused. “Do what where?”

Kihyun laughs aloud at this, eyes crinkling. Minhyuk mentally wonders when technology will finally let him screenshot reality with the sheer power of his mind. “That was my question, actually,” he says. “We’re going on a date later, so. Where do you wanna go?”

Minhyuk blinks rapidly, this being complete and utter news to him. “We’re going on a date?”

Kihyun transfers his face from one hand to the other, settling into a nice, easy slouch in the opposite direction before replying. “Yeah,” he says, “I mean, not if you don’t want to? We only texted yesterday, so…”

Ah, yesterday. When he had finally brought himself to save Kihyun’s number in his phone under the other boy’s watchful gaze, and received a weird look and a friendly shove when he had neatly input inis name as _YOO, KIHYUN_ . His phone had been snatched away from him, the contact re-saved as _KIHYUNNIE_ _♡_.

And he was going to change it to at least _KIHYUN_ , after, but didn’t in the end - he couldn’t deny the small thrill he felt at seeing the contact, so casual, sitting there neatly in his phonebook of methodically labelled names.

_One week boyfriend. Six days left. It’s Yoo fucking Kihyun, dude, get your shit together._

“ _Oh_ ,” Minhyuk says, abruptly, pulling himself out of his reverie. “Right. Uh, I have club actually, I’ll have to text Hyungwonie and tell him I won’t be going, hold on -”

“Club?” Kihyun perks up a little bit at this, and the curiosity rounds his sharp features. “What club are you in? I seem to recall it might’ve been art, but I might be wrong…”

Minhyuk feels a blush threatening to emerge until he remembers who it is he’s talking to. Right; he’d probably done his research yesterday, but it still makes him feel special, to be known about before he’s said a word on the matter. “Yeah,” he supplies instead, glancing up from his phone briefly to smile in assurance at Kihyun. “I’m in Art Club with my best friend Hyungwon. I’m not sure if you know our president? Shin Hoseok.”

Kihyun’s brow furrows for a second before he lights up, remembering. The shifting of his features is cute; Minhyuk finds himself entranced by the balance of his sharp eyes and sharper nose, nearly missing it when Kihyun starts talking again. “One year above us, extremely fair, adorable soft face, looks like he could throw three of me across the room with no effort, right? That the one?”

Minhyuk represses a snicker at the choice of description. “Yeah, that’s him. Wouldn’t hurt a fly, though. Literally.” He pauses. “It’s happened.”

Kihyun laughs in understanding. “One of the girls in his year I dated last autumn,” he supplies for context. “She told me straight from the onset that she was hoping that being with me would help her catch his attention.”

Minhyuk hisses a sharp intake of breath at the ease with which Kihyun mentions  having been used. A quiet voice at the back of his head chirps a reminder, too, that he’s just another one-week-lover in a long line of such. Minhyuk shoves the latter voice into a box in his brain, and kicks that under a figurative bed. “It didn’t work, though,” he pipes up instead, “Hoseok-hyung definitely isn’t interested.”

Kihyun looks away with a small smile. “She didn’t really think so, either, but she was hoping, I guess. Anyway, she was pretty nice about it - I didn’t mind.” Then he seems to shake himself awake and his eyes widen, apologetic. “Ah, sorry about bringing up previous people I’ve dated - I don’t usually do that, I know it ruins the experience.”

“The experience,” Minhyuk echoes, bemused. “You don’t have to act like you’re some kind of service, or something, you know? I really don’t care.” And he doesn't - he's really just here to exorcise his silly crush by undergoing actual exposure to the target. Basic science, really.

Kihyun cocks his head, eyes narrowing in scrutiny for a moment - then his entire face seems to reset itself, sliding back into a friendly, open position. “No, it’s - it’s the principle of it,” is all he has to say by way of explanation, running a hand quickly through his hair.

He changes the subject. “ _Anyway_! We got sidetracked. So tell me. You. Me. Date. After school today.” Kihyun brings his hands up when he talks, setting them both down on the edge of the table as he goes. “How about it? Any ideas?”

Minhyuk hums, smiling back at Kihyun for the eagerness. “Isn't there anything you want to do? I'd be good with that.”

Kihyun tsks in response, leaning back and folding his arms together. “This is about _you_ ,” he declares grandly, sweeping his arms out and barely avoiding hitting a passerby. “I want to know what _you_ like.”

Well. In _that_ case. “I've been meaning to go to the art museum, actually,” Minhyuk says slowly. “Hyungwon refuses to come along with me because it involves a deviation from his routine of doing absolutely nothing at all, and I don't have that many other friends, so…”

His mouth clamps shut. _Way to impress a guy, Min, let him know you have barely a single friend to your name. Real cool._

 _But then,_ another voice pipes up, sounding distinctly like Hyungwon, _It's not like it'll matter after this week, will it?_

Kihyun breaks him out of his internal monologue with a hand lightly touched to his. “I'll go with you,” he smiles. “Meet you outside your class after school?”

Against his better nature Minhyuk knows his cheeks are heating up. “S-sure,” he says, “It's - a date?” The end of the sentence tilts up in tentative question instinctively, and no sooner has it left his mouth than is Minhyuk ready to bury his face in his hands, change his name, and settle down in a new country where he will never say a word again for the rest of his life.

_What a dumb thing to say._

Obviously, Kihyun notices. His hand squeezes Minhyuk's gently on the table when he says, through a smile, “It's a date.”

 

-

 

“I'm not sure I trust you alone with this guy,” Hyungwon is muttering skeptically, overlong arms folding into each other as he leans into the space beside their classroom door. “You're going to say something dumb and embarrass yourself with how obviously gone and completely starstruck you are, and I'll be unawares, too caught up in painting the rustic English countryside to be alerted in time to sail to your rescue. Then you'll change your name and move to the North Pole, or something, and I won't find out until it's too late.”

Minhyuk grimaces at Hyungwon's knack of getting things completely right. “It's a bit too late for that,” he grumbles, “You should never have suggested this if you really cared for my dignity.”

His best friend's voice is heavy with amusement in reply. “Who said I cared about your dignity? I just can't find another homework provider.” Then a long finger comes up and flicks Minhyuk in a light tap on his forehead, warning. “And you chose this for yourself, don't you dare put it on me.”

Minhyuk lets out a thunderous, pathetic noise, like if a storm was just a whiny little baby who wanted to escape all its obligations and be held like an egg for a little while. “I _know_ ,” he whimpers, “That doesn't mean I'm having an easy _time_ , Hyungeonie, where is your _soul_?”

Hyungwon raises his eyebrows very, very high. They scale his face with a practiced ease, and perch midway through his forehead, unimpressed. “Traded it for all this beauty,” he coos. “Best deal of my life.”

“You look like a fucking f- _Ooooooh_ shit he's here I have to go I have to hide I have to fucking d -”

“Bad dog. No running. Stay.” Hyungwon catches him by the scruff of his collar and holds him in place, looking towards Kihyun's approaching form. “You should probably try to look less like a soggy puppy,” he chastises when Minhyuk finally stops struggling.

Docile, Minhyuk waits for Hyungwon's grip to relax before he wriggles out of it. “Then don't _hold me_ like one,” he snipes back, adjusting his collar, affronted.

“I'll stop when you earn it,” Hyungwon mumbles. Then suddenly his gaze grows distant, and - is that _pink_ in his pale complexion? - he grabs Minhyuk by the shoulders and turns him around, shoving him towards where Kihyun is standing a few meters away, watching them impassively. “Seeyoulaterhavefundontstayouttoolatebye!”

Minhyuk stumbles with the momentum of the push. Fortunately - or not, depending on how you look at it - his fall is steadied by two small hands on either of his forearms. Kihyun's breath is warm on his ear when he asks, softly, “You good?”

All of his nerves are wires alight with a current too much for them to handle; Minhyuk staggers backwards in mortification, waving a hand in front of his face to hide his embarrassment. “I'm fine, thanks, and you?”

Kihyun's nose crinkles with his humour. “I'm good,” he replies, drawing a step closer. “Isn't that Shin Hoseok, by the way?” He gestures with his chin in the general direction that Hyungwon had scampered off in. Minhyuk spins around and follows his gaze.

“Yeah,” Minhyuk says, “Sometimes Hoseokkie-hyung comes to get him from class and they walk to the art room together.” He shrugs. They've started walking, taking the steps down towards the school gate. “Which doesn't make sense, but hyung is like that. He really likes Hyungwonie, I think.”

Kihyun is silent for a little bit, lips slightly pursed like he's deep in thought. Eventually he says, “If that's true, I hope Hyungwon likes him back.”

Minhyuk wonders if he imagines the tinge of yearning there - but when he looks, Kihyun is his ever charming self, perfectly put together as always. He skips ahead of them both for a little bit before spinning back around. “We take Line 2, yeah?”

Minhyuk brisk walks a little bit to catch up. Something makes him take Kihyun’s hand as they leave the school premises, pulling closer to him out on the streets, leading him to the nearest metro station on the aforementioned line. 

It isn’t the longest walk, but belatedly he feels shy, the way he’s holding the hand of someone he’s only just met. When he tests the hold, though, Kihyun’s grip is solid, pulling back.

Minhyuk has to let go, anyway, when they’re at the gantries, the other boy letting him go in first with a fleeting touch to his back. He’s watching the display, eyes bright and focused.

“Ah, the train's here,” Kihyun exclaims suddenly. “Go, go, go!” 

He takes, again, the hand that he had let go; grasps it tightly, pulls him along as they race down the escalators and onto the platform, breathless with sudden laughter all the way.

 

-

 

Kihyun is peering with particular effort at the placard beside a painting when Minhyuk tears himself away from admiring the visual weight of a sculpture. He bends in very closely to read it,  taking a step back as if to look at the painting in its entirety - then cocks his head in apparent confusion, leaning back to squint at the description in greater detail like reading it more times will impart some heretofore undiscovered revelation upon him.

Minhyuk stills his approach to watch. It is endearing to see Kihyun off guard, without the bells and whistles it feels like he always comes attached with. The part of him that is enamoured with the boy grows a little bolder when he pops up behind Kihyun, mouth right by his ear as he whispers, “Boo.”

Kihyun startles, a shudder wringing through his entire body as he recoils from Minhyuk. The shock slackens his features, and momentarily he is adorable with surprise before he recovers smoothly, bringing a graceful hand to his chest. “Ah, you scared me,” he huffs, eyelids fluttering still.

Minhyuk grins proudly, showing all of his teeth. “Mission complete,” he jokes. “Anyway. Not one for art, are you?”

Kihyun looks embarrassed. “I mean, it's not really that, I just…” He turns back to the painting on the wall. “Some things are a little bit too abstract for me, I guess.”

Minhyuk doesn’t coo, but it’s a close thing. “That’s alright,” he says. “It took me a while to get it when I first started learning art theory, too. For a really long time all it looked like was funny blocks and colours.” He reaches for Kihyun’s wrist, tugging him along to another exhibit. “Why’d you agree to the art museum if you knew it was gonna be like this, though?”

Kihyun slides his glance over towards Minhyuk. “I told you it was gonna be about you, right?” He tries for a suave smile, but falls a little short. It makes him look younger, less confident than he usually appears to be.

Minhyuk snorts a little bit. “I mean, modern art isn’t exactly romantic, you know.” He stops them both at another painting, thinking Kihyun might like it a little more. It’s more comprehensible than the other ones thus far; there are some discernible motifs, for one. Minhyuk stops and lets Kihyun take it in, discreetly admiring the shine in his eyes as they reflect the fluorescence.

“It isn’t,” Kihyun agrees readily, slightly distracted as he observes the work and seems to be able to make sense of the placard. “But I’m happy if you are.”

Minhyuk opens his mouth to protest the line, over the sound of the tattoo magnifying inside his chest, a bubble growing so large he can barely breathe. But the look Kihyun gives him - tentative, slightly hesitant - halts what he is going to say. Blinking in surprise, Minhyuk says, instead, “I am.” He beams, mouth stretching across the lower half of his face. “Happy, that is.”

“Oh.” It comes out in a soft exhale, and when Kihyun looks back towards the painting it is very evident that he isn’t really noticing it at all. “That’s good,” he says. “That’s – yeah. Good.”

Looking at him against the backdrop of so many carefully composited works of art feels like swallowing fruit whole, the rinds rubbing against the inside of his throat and chastising him for forgetting to chew. Minhyuk clears his throat and tears his gaze away, tugging Kihyun by the wrist again. “Enough here, then,” he says cheerily, “Let’s move along.”

“But there’s still another exhibit on the third floor,” Kihyun starts, but he is quickly overridden by Minhyuk’s shushing noises and his own inability to resist the force with which Minhyuk is dragging him along.

“We’ve already seen three of them, it’s fine,” Minhyuk hums. “There’s better places to be.”

 

-

 

The _better place_ , as it turns out, is the museum gift shop. Minhyuk hides behind a row of mugs with impressionist paintings plastered onto them as he watches Kihyun smile to himself, flipping through a coffee table book or two. Deciding not to be creepy, he leaves his post and wanders up to Kihyun, bending at the waist close to the surface of the low table and peeking up at him like that. “You look happy,” he observes, cheekily.

Kihyun jumps a little bit, but nowhere as badly as he had earlier. He swats halfheartedly in Minhyuk’s direction, colouring a dusty peach. “No, I just - I like photography,” he explains, gesturing towards the massive square volume, lying open to a portrait of a neon sign glaring out through blue fog. He smiles a little bit, glancing back at it, as he says, “It makes more sense to me.”

Minhyuk blinks once, twice, then laughs. Kihyun, clearly at a loss, falls silent, one hand absently coming up to close the book. Minhyuk shakes his head, still smiling, and says, “That’s the first time you’ve expressed something about your personal likes.” Before he can stop it, the next words tumble out into the open. “Thank you.”

Kihyun looks as startled by the admission as Minhyuk is by the fact that he’d said it. “That’s not true,” he says, averting his gaze a little, “I told you I was working my convenience store shift after school yesterday.” He doesn’t say anything about the thanks.

 _Why would you_ say _that, Lee Minhyuk_ . Aloud, he quips, “Your personal _likes_ , Kihyunie, not general facts about what you do with your spare time.”

It is a split second before either of them notices, and then they both do, at once. Minhyuk wonders when he will finally learn how to remove his voice and port it to a server so that he can store it securely and never accidentally say things ever again. Kihyun’s eyes crinkle prettily when he says, “Kihyunie, huh?”

Minhyuk flounders. “Y-you’re my boyfriend for the week, aren’t you?” he blurts. “I should - should call you something cute, right?”

Now they are twin crescents in his face, Kihyun beaming so brightly they disappear into creased lines. “Sure, Minhyukkie.” Then, “You know what this calls for?”

Minhyuk tilts his head, puzzled. “A... celebration?”

Kihyun takes him by the hand - properly, with their fingers interlaced - and brings him to a display where there is a tree of keychains that don't appear related to any art in particular, bending to peruse the options available. “Matching souvenirs,” he chirps happily, lilting tone enticing Minhyuk to bend and look, too.

He seems to quickly get engrossed in sifting through the merchandise; Minhyuk joins in, just to humour him. The keychains are cute, if nothing else: they feature three-dimensional casts of various cutesified animals hanging from a chain. A sign above it proclaims proudly that _For a small additional fee you can customise an attachable nameplate!_

Bending in very close to see better, Minhyuk discovers something that delights him. He reaches in and pulls it out, admiring the little tufted ears, the bright eyes, rounded cheeks. Turning around to find his target, he thrusts it towards Kihyun.

“Look,” he says, mouth curved into a grin. “It's you.”

Kihyun turns, off guard - and then instantly pouts when he sees the extended trinket, letting out a small noise in protest. “How am I a hamster?!” he asks, in outrage.

Minhyuk simpers in response. “It's the cheeks,” he says, “And your cute little teeth. Look,” he gestures, shoving the creature right into his face. “Mirror image!”

Letting out an indistinct cry of outrage, Kihyun turns back to the keychain tree, casting about wildly before he locates his target. Plucking it off with a triumphant _Hah!_ he brandishes his finding in front of Minhyuk's eyes, nearly hitting him with how hard it's jiggling.

“A dog?” Minhyuk asks, slightly incredulously.

“Yeah,” Kihyun proclaims, smug. “Well, more of a puppy, but the constraints of our medium, and all that.”

Minhyuk bares his teeth threateningly at him, realises he's proving Kihyun's point, then snaps his jaw shut with a _clack_. “You,” he says instead. Then he reaches out and snatches it from Kihyun, taking it over to the counter.

“What are you doing,” Kihyun calls from behind him, toddling along to keep up. Minhyuk waves him off as he talks to the counter staff; when Kihyun gets there it is to see Minhyuk writing their names onto two separate pieces of paper that he hands over to the man, who takes them and retreats to a machine which he starts fiddling with.

“I can't let you pay,” Kihyun protests, reaching for his wallet, but Minhyuk lightly smacks his hand away.

“Too bad, I already did,” he says cheerfully. “Deal with it.” At this point the cashier returns, handing them two keyrings with the original keychains and glittery coloured plastic tags attached to them, each bearing their names.

Minhyuk gathers them both and ushers them away from the counter. They come to a stop against a pillar by the side of the exit when Minhyuk stops to look at the keychains, making a small “Oh” as he does.

From behind him Kihyun peeks curiously over his shoulder, standing on his tip toes so he can see. “What is it?” he asks.

The keyrings are held up in front of them both for them to see. “He swapped the nametags,” Minhyuk points out, jingling them a little bit. Sure enough, the dog pendant shares a ring with the name tag that says YOO KIHYUN, the hamster one Minhyuk’s own name. “I can go back and ask him to switch them aro -?”

He is stilled by Kihyun's hand on his arm. “Do you mind?” he asks, eyes on the suspended keychains.

Minhyuk blinks at him, owlish. “Do I mind what?”

“Do you mind having the wrong animal, I mean?”

Caught slightly off guard, Minhyuk brings the keychains down into his hand. Looks at them, then back at Kihyun, and says, “I guess not really?”

“Then it's okay,” Kihyun decides for them both, plucking the tag with his name on it out of Minhyuk's palm. The little dog charm clacks against the cheap plastic as he slides his school bag off his shoulder and puts it into a pocket.

Minhyuk blinks, once or twice, then opens his bag as well, taking the time to attach it carefully to his pencilcase before sliding it back into his bag.

“I feel like we achieved something today,” he jokes, grinning brightly as he stands a little closer to Kihyun, who looks up, mirroring his smile.

“Yeah,” Kihyun agrees. His gaze seems to be locked somewhere else before he drags it back to Minhyuk, slightly crossed eyes refocusing as he does. “I think we did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments for me... shakes my litle jar pathetically PLEASE can we get some comments for food....  
> also um please dont comment saying nothing but "pls update" it is very rude thank you


	3. Wednesday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “ _Did you guys get matching keychains_ ,” Hyungwon whispers, eyes buggy. “What the fuck, dude, we were supposed to be getting _over_ him, not acquiring tokens of eternal devotion.”

The screaming of his phone - quite literally, because his alarm is an audio clip of Hyungwon yelling at him to _get up it’s six PM you entered the wrong dimension you have to GO NOW YOU HAVE TO GO_ in his amphibian voice - picks Minhyuk up and punts him out of a window into consciousness. Fumbling around for it, he rubs at his crusty eyes sleepily and waits until his vision loads sufficiently to focus on his phone screen.

In the blue light of dawn he manages to make out the text on the display. _6:55 am._

He jolts out of bed, head whirring with mental sums. Assembly period begins at 7.30; if he forgoes breakfast or brings it along he should be able to make it to school with five minutes to spare. He’s already undressed and showering like speed-cleansing is an Olympic sport when he realises, to his horror, that he has gravely miscalculated.

Minhyuk doesn’t live _that_ far from school - something like a fifteen minute bicycle ride, give or take the time it takes him to park it and chain it in the school bicycle park and run up to class.

The problem is, he doesn’t have his bike. It’s in school. Because the day before he had taken the metro to the museum with Kihyun, and then floated home on public transport all the way, completely forgetting about his trusty steed.

He tips his head back and groans. That, too, turns into an instant regret when a gush of shower water seizes the chance to rush into his mouth, gurgling and overflowing and making him sputter and spit it out in shock. And misery. A whole ton of it.

 _Congratulations, Mom, it’s an idiot_ , he thinks miserably, hurriedly rinsing the last of the shampoo out of his hair and shutting off the water. After a quick towel-dry and slipping into his uniform, Minhyuk is grabbing the toast his mother had left on the table as he races out of the door, school bag clinging to his shoulder for dear life as he races down the road to school.

Twenty-five minutes later he skids into line in the parade square just as the massive central clock strikes 7:30, wheezing like a chorus of bellows with holes poked into them. Fidgeting, he tucks in his shirt clumsily and tries to straighten his tie, doing his best not to attract any teachers’ attention with his haggard appearance.

A few people down, a tall, stretchy form unfolds itself from the domino chain of their classmates, Hyungwon’s not-quite-large-enough head turning around to look at him. “Do I have to record you a new alarm?” Hyungwon hisses, raising his eyebrows and baring all of his teeth like some kind of small, unfed, amphibian rodent.

Minhyuk looks around hastily before replying. “Forgot I didn’t have my bike,” he whisper-shouts back, earning the slight consternation of the three classmates in between the two of them. Donghan gives him a slightly dodgy look, like he’s afraid Minhyuk’s going to steal his. First his table space, next his bicycle. The natural progression of things.

“Why the fuck didn’t you have your -” Hyungwon’s sentence is abruptly truncated by the sound of their head prefect clearing his throat into the mic, calling them to attention for flag-raising. “- _Later_ ,” he says instead, sibilant like a threat, before turning back around to look suitably attentive.

Later, indeed, Hyungwon sidles up to him while they’re all trudging back to class to wait out the ten or so minutes before first period. “Why didn’t you have your bike,” he deadpans, “Did you give it to Yoo Kihyun in exchange for his undying love or something?”

Minhyuk feels the blood rushing to his head at the mention of his name. “I’m not _that_ much of a bimbo,” he protests, “But it does have to do with him. Uh. We took the train to the museum yesterday, and I forgot when I went home.”

Hyungwon lets out an incredulous snort. “Your bike’s your baby, dude, did you seriously forget it because you wanted to take the train all the way back with Yoo Kihyun?”  He pauses. “After your _date_?”

“Her name is _Jaeeun,_ and she’s been my best friend ever since I bought her,” Minhyuk shoots back, “Jaeeun would never abandon me, unlike a certain _creature_ I know.”

Hyungwon makes another blustery sound. “Jaeeun also is incapable of dragging your ass out of bed whereas _Hyungwons_ ,” - Here he jabs a thumb proudly into his chest in a _that’s me_ \- “Have the honour of being the most effective alarm clock on earth.”

“ _Hyungwons_ can’t get _themselves_ out of bed,” Minhyuk points out. “Your mother pulls you out by the feet and drags you for at least three metres before you obtain consciousness. I’ve seen it happen.”

Hyungwon waves dismissively. “Minor details, minor details,” he says. “Anyway. How did it go?”

“Ah.” Minhyuk stops walking right outside their classroom door, hanging back and making Hyungwon draw in curiously. In a very tiny voice, he says, “I liked it.”

“It’s not working, huh,” Hyungwon mulls somewhat apologetically. “Well. You _did_ just start. You may as well have fun while you’re at it, right?”

Minhyuk is nodding in lieu of a more eloquent response when a duo of their classmates walks in past them, chattering away about some gossip or the other.

“Did you hear,” Minjun is saying to a raptly attentive Eunha, “Apparently Yoo Kihyun has a new keychain on his bag.”

Eunha makes a sound of surprise and interest. “Eh? Do you think it has to do with anyone? I heard he never carries anything sentimental because he only ever dates for a week…”

The boy shrugs in reply, raising his voice a little to finish the conversation with Eunha as they separate to head to their seats. “Maybe not. I heard it’s just a keychain with a tag with his name on it.”

Hyungwon nudges Minhyuk, who’s gone completely still, while Eunha shrugs and laughs as a reply. “Know anything about that?” He asks out the side of his mouth, entering their classroom and speaking backwards to Minhyuk as he filters in behind him.

He is going to protest when he remembers that Hyungwon sits next to him and is going to see his pencil case anyway. “Maybe,” he mutters evasively, sliding into his chair.

He knows Hyungwon’s creaturely senses are tingling when he sits down and leans all the way out of his chair, shoving his head into Minhyuk’s territory while he unpacks his bag. Resigning himself to his fate, Minhyuk reaches in and takes out his pencil case, placing it carefully on the table and ignoring Hyungwon’s exaggerated gasp.

“ _Did you guys get matching keychains,_ ” Hyungwon whispers, eyes buggy. “What the fuck, dude, we were supposed to be getting _over_ him, not acquiring tokens of eternal devotion.”

Minhyuk coughs shiftily. “It’s just a tag with my name on it,” he says, not mentioning the fact that it had been Kihyun’s idea, and that looking at it makes his mouth a little dry, head woozy.

Hyungwon looks doubtful, but doesn't push the matter any further, folding into his seat like a DIY portable skeleton back into its box. “And a hamster,” he says, “Which bears a very strong resemblance to a certain one-week-boyfriend of yours.”

Minhyuk blows a raspberry and says nothing in reply, sinking into his seat and surreptitiously checking his phone. He has a text from Kihyun, and sighting it makes him smile instinctively, curling up in his chair as he slides the notification open to tap out a quick reply.

He can feel the weight of Hyungwon’s gaze on him as he watches for a moment. Minhyuk glances up and says, “Oh yeah, I won’t be eating lunch with you today, either. Sorry - do you have anyone to eat with?”

Hyungwon shakes his head in dismissal. “I’m fine,” he replies. “Hey, listen, do you think -”

They’re interrupted by the sudden scraping of chairs as the rest of their class scrambles to attention. Hurriedly the two of them hasten to stand, too, the conversation cut short. Minhyuk shoots Hyungwon a distracted gaze even as they bow and greet Mr Park with the rest of the class, silently questioning.

Hyungwon’s mouth falls shut, seeming to think better of it. _Later_ , he mouths. In front, Mr Park is writing on the whiteboard as he begins a quick summary of the class’s contents. “Everybody, please turn to page seventy-four…”

 

-

 

The school bell chimes, signalling the end of the period. Minhyuk’s head rockets off the table where it had slowly fallen to rest, hands fidgety as their history teacher finishes wrapping up her lesson, reminding them about the essay due the next day. Hyungwon, too, slowly uncurls from his face-down position, blinking foggily.

“Is class over?” he’s mumbling even as the class simultaneously rises to give their greeting. As an excited lunch break chatter arises Minhyuk is already leaving his seat and pushing his chair in, stopping only long enough to ruffle Hyungwon’s hair before he weaves through the labyrinth of tables and scuttles out of the classroom door.

And nearly bumps into Kihyun, who’s standing right by it, tapping away on his phone. His smile, when he sees Minhyuk, is sweet, lighting up his features with a glow as he looks up. Sliding his phone back into his pocket, Kihyun pushes off the wall and falls into step with Minhyuk, pulling close into his space when he asks, “How’s class?”

Minhyuk laughs a little bit. “I don’t know, I was mostly asleep,” he confesses. “Just remembered there’s an essay due tomorrow, but I guess I’ll do that after school, since we aren’t doing anything…”

He trails off, realising he sounds a little needy. Kihyun looks up apologetically at him, then takes his hand, tangling their fingers together like they belong that way. “Sorry,” he says, “I can make it up to you somehow?”

Embarrassed, Minhyuk hastily waves his free hand in front of his face. “No, no, I didn’t mean it like that - I mean, you have work, that’s nothing we can do about that…anyway, I really have to actually do the assignment, so if you think about it that’s. That’s basically a blessing in disguise, right?” He’s rambling. If only he knew how to shut up.

Kihyun doesn’t seem to mind. As they climb the steps to the school roof he swings their joined hands just so, taking the stairs two at a time. “You’re really sweet,” he comments offhandedly, like such an open remark isn’t brazenly fond, weighty. Minhyuk does his best to ignore the unwarranted hurt that curls in his chest cavity when he realises that maybe, for Kihyun, it isn’t.

At the door to the roof Kihyun jiggles the handle a little bit before it opens, and he knees it open, weighing it down by leaning on it so Minhyuk can pass through. Outside the sky is wide, and blue, and the air is pleasantly cold. Apart from a group of third years sitting in a corner talking quietly and eating canteen sandwiches it’s quiet; they glance up at their entry but quickly lose interest. Minhyuk quietly follows behind Kihyun as he heads towards a spot on the far end of the concrete, close to the parapet, away from the high green fencing that lines the rest of the perimeter.

“I packed us food,” Kihyun starts, a tad unnecessarily. Minhyuk flops to the floor, legs splayed apart, and looks up at Kihyun expectantly until he sits down too, setting the large cooler bag down on the ground between them as he does. Minhyuk watches as he unzips it and removes first a small mat to set on the ground, then two lunch boxes, a third container, and then packets of juice that he sets in front of them both.

Kihyun glances up at him with some uncertainty, then back to the lunch boxes. He takes his time cracking each of them open. “It’s kimbap. I realised I didn’t really know what you like to eat, so…” He pauses. “I hope you like apple juice, too.”

Minhyuk shakes his head vehemently. “No, no, it’s perfect,” he assures. “Did you - did you make it?”

Kihyun ducks his head shyly. “Yeah,” he says. “I cook a lot at home, so…”

For the first time, Minhyuk wonders with vivid clarity just how little of Yoo Kihyun is or has been made available to the world. It’s easy to be taken in by the reputation, his curious ‘thing’, the confidence with which he carries himself - Minhyuk will freely admit that he was, too.

But now he wonders what else there is he’s missed. If he has the right to learn any more. Kihyun is more than the no strings attached _yes_ , the illusion of an ephemeral, fundamentally perfect romance - guiltily, Minhyuk admits that he wants to know.

“Is that a hobby of yours?” he asks, pulling out a pair of chopsticks and picking up a slice of kimbap after he sees Kihyun do the same. “What else do you like to do?”

Kihyun does his best to smile, closed-mouthed, around the food that he is chewing. His cheeks are round with rice, and Minhyuk thinks of the hamster on his pencil case, ignoring the way a hole seems to open up in his ribcage and demand his attention. While waiting for a response he stuffs the slice into his mouth and begins to chew, watching Kihyun expectantly as he does.

“ _Oh_ ,” Minhyuk exclaims, muffled through the rice. “This is really good.”

Already puffy, Kihyun’s cheeks get puffier. He chews a bit more and swallows before replying. “Really?” he asks, slightly bashful. “I modified my mom’s recipe. This was the first time I tried it out, actually, so…” He doesn’t finish the sentence, but grins at Minhyuk brightly. “Thank you for saying that.”

That smile could make itself a home in Minhyuk’s chest; already it is carving out a place behind his eyelids. “I mean it,” he confirms, stuffing another slice into his mouth. Something about the ease of it all stifles his sense of shame when he prompts, ungainly through the rice and its stuffing, “Hobbies?”

Kihyun is chewing again. He takes a sip of the apple juice and munches thoughtfully for a while before replying. “I like photography, as you might already know. And cooking - I'm sure you can tell.”

“Not much of an outdoors person, are you,” Minhyuk teases. “Do you do either of those two things often?”

Kihyun's mouth scrunches up into a pretzel at that. “The sun is hot,” he defends. “And. Well. I cook basically every day,” Kihyun continues, expression dimming just a little bit. “Aaand... I like to go out on shoots every now and then, if I'm free.”

Minhyuk nearly chokes on the two slices of kimbap in his mouth, he's rushing to speak so fast. “It paid off,” he garbles, “This is _really_ good.” Not wanting to face the fall in Kihyun's spirits any further, he pushes the topic along. “What do you like taking photos of?”

Kihyun's lips turn up at the corners, just a little bit. “Mostly scenery, I guess. But people too. I think everyone has something of a beauty in them. It's just a question of getting it to show.”

“Is that why your third hobby is taking people out?” The question is out of his mouth before he can really register its exit, or he would've tried closing the door and barring it shut. “Sorry - I didn't mean it in a mean way. Or to pry, I know it's kind of personal -”

Kihyun is looking at him searchingly, head tilted. His features are brightly lit but still indecipherable in the high afternoon sun. “Don't apologise,” he says, “It's not weird to ask.”

Looking down, he pokes around aimlessly in his lunch box, chopsticks dancing without direction around the container before he continues. “You're right in some sense, I guess. There are just so many people in the world, and I want to… to experience that. To get to know them, I guess.” He picks up the last slice, bringing it to his mouth. Mulls for a bit before adding, “...Something like that.”

 _Then why don't you ever talk to them ever again after?_ The question nags, and Minhyuk dearly wants to ask, but Kihyun looks tender now, and he doesn't want to run the risk of ruining the moment with his big mouth.

So instead he carefully opts for some sharing of his own. “I'm glad,” he tells him. “Thank you for letting me be part of that.”

He doesn't anticipate the effect his words have on Kihyun. The other boy blinks rapidly, as if surprised, and then asks, very seriously, “Can I kiss you?”

“Can you what,” Minhyuk splutters, mind going into shutdown. “You want to k - kiss me?”

He sounds like an idiot, but the thing is, Minhyuk has never been kissed before. Not really. There is a time and space, somewhere in their first year of high school, where Hyungwon, lounging on Minhyuk’s bed, brings up the question idly, spurred on by recent intimations of intimacies between any number of their classmates, past and present. And Minhyuk, in reply, asks _Wanna try?_ and Hyungwon stares at him with dead fish eyes before shrugging and saying _Why not._ The resulting kiss lasts shorter than a sneeze and is only fractionally more appealing.

But anyway. That hardly counts.

Kihyun actually looks embarrassed. “If you wouldn't mind,” he says very carefully, glancing over to where the lone other group had been sitting earlier. All too belatedly Minhyuk realises they've left, leaving the two of them alone on the school roof with nothing but the sky for company.

His heart is a noisy, desirous thing, ricocheting around the cage of his chest. He doesn't have to think, not really, when he opens his mouth, and says, “Please.”

A brief flicker of amusement crosses Kihyun's features. Minhyuk doesn't have the time to process mortification at how pathetic he must sound before Kihyun has scooted over, carefully shifting the mat bearing the food so he's seated right against the cross of Minhyuk's legs, their knees touching. Kihyun leans in a little bit, placing a steadying hand on Minhyuk's thigh when he asks, “Is this okay?”

He can hardly breathe for the proximity. This close he can track the flutter of Kihyun's eyelashes, see the tiny imperfections in his complexion. Minhyuk fixes his gaze on a particularly bumpy pore and gulps. “Ye - Yeah,” he stammers, “It's good. Great.”

“Okay,” Kihyun says, nosing in closer. Amusement is audible in his voice when he counts down. “Kissing you in three…two…”

 _One_ is a press against his lips, firm and slightly cold. It doesn't last long; Minhyuk barely has the time to register that _Kihyun needs chapstick_ before he's pulling away, smiling tentatively.

“Thanks,” Minhyuk says, then claps his hand over his mouth, burning up with his horror. “Shit - It's just - that was my first - kind of - um, fuck, it was nice. Nice? Is that a thing I should say? Oh god, I think I should shut up but I have a habit of rambling when I'm nervous and I think that this is an example of that happening and you just look so pretty and I am so, so sorry.”

To his credit Kihyun doesn't say anything about the wordspew. He does, however, tilt his head. “Your ‘kind of first’…?” he queries, mouth opening silently in realisation. “Kiss, you mean?”

He could die. He really could. Minhyuk wonders if Hyungwon, with all of his zombie wisdom, could possibly know a way to carve the ground out from under your feet, pave a way straight to the core of the earth where one would be able to retire in peace in the heart of a molten fire, never seeing another human ever again. To devote oneself to peace, to solitude, to some nice, gentle hobby, like knitting.

Probably not. All zombies do is eat brains.

“Yeah,” he says weakly. “I… tried it, with my best friend once. Didn't really count, though. He has the personality of a dead fish. Lips to match.”

Kihyun hums knowingly. “Hyungwon, I assume?” He pauses, looking like he's engaging in a brief internal struggle.

One side seems to win. Finally Kihyun asks, “So. Did you like it?”

Perhaps zombie wisdom is still worth a shot. Nothing can compare to the pain of being a mere human, arrested upon earth, left to wrestle with his shame without an avenue of escape. Minhyuk knows this now.

“Yeah, it… Um, like I said. It was nice,” he confesses, severely underselling the sensation. Nobody had told him touching someone else's cold mouth with yours was going to give him _feelings._

Something tells him that isn't something he should really disclose, either.

Blessedly, Kihyun sits back a little bit, drawing his knees up to his chest. It makes him look small when he lays his head on his knees and peers up at Minhyuk. “That's good,” he says. “If you wanna, you know all you have to do is ask.”

Minhyuk nearly chokes on the air he's inhaling. Lunch period is nearly over; the sounds and chatter of the mass migration around school grounds back to class is the only soundtrack to his racing mind. “Okay,” he squeaks, and then sews his mouth shut, lest he leaves it open and something ridiculous like _Then can I kiss you again now?_ falls out.

Kihyun warms. Says, softly, “Wanna head back to class now?” His hand is gentle as he removes the chopsticks Minhyuk had been dumbly gripping this entire time from his hold, touch searing despite the cool air and his summer uniform.

He looks peaceful as he focuses on the mundane task of packing up; by the time it occurs to Minhyuk to offer to help, he's zipping up the cooler bag, and has gotten up, standing in front of Minhyuk and extending a hand in offer to help him up.

Backlit by the sun, Kihyun is haloed with light. His hand is an invitation. Minhyuk takes it, and lets Kihyun hoist him to his feet, that same indecipherable smile playing over his features all the while.

This is going to be a _lot_ harder than he'd thought.

 

-

 

As he slips back into class, not-too-aggressively shoving Hyungwon just to watch him stumble (He does it out of _love_. Also, it's funny.), Minhyuk is vaguely cognisant of a few curious glances his way. He's just tucked his seat in when the kid who sits in front of him turns around and asks, “Are you Yoo Kihyun's conquest of the week?”

Minhyuk grimaces, discreetly tucking the hamster keychain under his pencil case before answering. “Not the word I'd use, but I guess,” he says. “It's not exactly a secret.”

Bumsoo - that's his name - stares at him for a while longer, even as the class settles down around them. “Why?” he asks, bluntly. “The guy's a player. He's using you for free affection and you're just wasting your time. Aren't you the one all the girls went crazy over in middle school?”

He _really_ isn't comfortable with this conversation. Minhyuk smiles, watery, and is halfway through mentally composing an answer that is simultaneously socially acceptable as well as meaningless before the end of lunch chime sounds, coinciding with their Korean language teacher striding into the classroom.

Saved by the bell. Or not - a folded piece of paper quickly lands on his table, sitting on the corner. When he glances up it is to find Bumsoo looking back at him, wriggling his eyebrows meaningfully in a way that indicates _We aren't done with this conversation yet_.

But they can be, if Minhyuk wants. He thinks about time limits, the curve of a smile against his own, and flicks the note off the corner of his desk, letting it fall out of his sight onto the floor.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (prayer hands emojy) kind words accepted in lieu of cash all year round.... spare a kind word ma'am.... ok but for real though. let me know if it made u laugh my only purpose in life is to be funny. xo and u know where to find me babeys


	4. Thursday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I know,” he says, “But I just want to.” _Impress you_ , his brain fills in, traitorously. _I’m trying to impress you, even if I know it’s going to be futile in the end._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if u wanna get feelings disease and die like me please listen to emoticons (the wombats)/ talk fast (5sos) / dance to this (ariana ft troye) like... for this fic in general but in particular this chapter i Guess
> 
> uh it's a VERY light M, but i rated for safety!

“You’re not abandoning me for lunch today, are you?” Hyungwon’s voice is as dry as ever as he sits with his head flopped onto Minhyuk’s desk. It is at complete odds with the way, at this angle, his eyes turn massively round, giving him the appearance of young innocence. Owlishly, he blinks, as if to accentuate his demand for an answer.

Minhyuk glances over his phone screen at him, and reaches out a hand, swatting Hyungwon in the fringe with the back of it. It causes Hyungwon to jerk back, duly swatted as he makes a halfhearted noise of discontentment. “What was that for,” he complains, “I was asking you a perfectly valid question.”

It’s recess, just after third period; resuming his position sprawled out across Minhyuk’s table, Hyungwon comfortably rests his head against his right arm, bringing a sandwich to his lips with his left. Minhyuk stops tapping away for long enough to watch as Hyungwon somehow fits half of the bread into his mouth, marveling at the way the triangle, when pulled away, is now half its original size.

“It never stops being freaky when you do that,” he comments, offhandedly, eyes back on his screen. It casts a faint blue light on his face. Distractedly, he seems to recall Hyungwon’s wailed question. “Also? Because you make it so _easy._ ”

Then his silently reading expression brightens, and his fingers race across the keyboard, tapping out what must be a series of lengthy replies in a chat app. He’s smiling, too, in way that says he must be unaware of how it is he looks.

Hyungwon watches him for a while, and does not say anything. Instead he shoves the other half of the sandwich into his face, and chews noisily, making crunchy and slightly wet noises. At length, he says, “How was yesterday’s lunch date?”

That gets his attention. Minhyuk’s thumbs pause mid-type, his brain visibly stuttering to a halt. Then he seems to reboot, typing out a few more words at a far slower pace before he finally clicks his screen off, playing his phone face-down on the table. Like if he sees a message he’ll be unable to resist replying.

“I really like him, Wonnie.” Minhyuk speaks slowly, fingers pulling at each other in that way they have that tells Hyungwon he’s nervous. “It… It was really nice.”

Hyungwon finally raises his head off the table, cacophonously scooting his chair over until he’s as close to Minhyuk as he can be without climbing into his lap. “You’re not telling me something,” he divines instantly. “Yesterday you said we had to work on the paper, which is why I let you go, but today is _now_ and _I know you_ , Lee Minhyuk. I know _you all too well_.”

“You’re too close,” Minhyuk squeaks, because Hyungwon has somehow zoomed in so far upon his face his nose is scarcely an inch from Minhyuk’s cheek. “Also, could you be less creepy sometimes maybe? Please?”

Hyungwon backs up, but he’s somehow scarier when both his eyes are visible, trained threateningly on your face. Then he smiles very unnaturally, pulling his lips apart in a grimace that reveals his ominous rows of far too many teeth. “No,” he enunciates. “Out with it, thot.”

Minhyuk looks around shiftily. It prompts Hyungwon to move in closer, picking up a pencil and holding it to Minhyuk's neck as if it were a blade. Minhyuk backs up, playing along for a while, before batting away a hand that puts up very little resistance.

Quickly, like ripping off a bandaid, he ducks his head to Hyungwon's ear and whispers, words tumbling over each other, “HeaskedifhecouldkissmeandIsaidyes.”

Clumsy, Hyungwon nearly mashes his ear into Minhyuk's teeth when he straightens up in surprise. “You _kissed?_ ”

“ _Shhhhh_ ,” Minhyuk hisses, glancing around and glaring at the empty space where Bumsoo sits before responding in a lowered voice. “Just...just the once,” he mutters, dipping his chin into his collar.

Hyungwon sinks his jaw into his palm, elbow to table. “I sense regret,” he hums, “That it wasn't any more than that.”

Minhyuk opens his mouth to protest. Slams it shut again, because damn the frog and his prophetic powers. “I mean - he did say that I could,” he starts, and then claps a hand over his mouth again. Can't shut up disease. He really can't shut up.

“Could what?” Belatedly, Minhyuk recalls that despite being prey, the frog is a predator too. And that its tongue has a formidable reach, especially when Minhyuk is just a fly.

 _Could just ask_ , he thinks, but resolutely doesn't say it. He's already far more emotionally invested in this than he really should be. Nobody needs to know that. Not even Hyungwon.

Minhyuk coughs,  then looks away, picking up his phone to reply to Kihyun instead of giving Hyungwon an answer.

“Hey,” Hyungwon pesters. “Hey, hey. Hello. Stop texting your boyfriend for two seconds, I was speaking to you. Asshole.”

“He's not my boyfriend,” Minhyuk says instantly, sending Kihyun one last buttonmash before he puts his phone back down again. “And I'm under no obligation to respond to you when you're _bullying_ me.”

Hyungwon leans back, then rolls his eyes so luxuriantly Minhyuk is convinced he must practice in the mirror at home. Like, if a regular eye roll was a Subaru, Hyungwon owned a deck of Maseratis, baby. “Sure, if you say so,” he drawls.

“Anyway. If you don't wanna talk about your love life, I will.” Pause. “About mine, I mean, I'm bored of being about yours.” He cracks a knuckle or two.

Then, without any preamble whatsoever: “Hoseok-hyung asked me out.”

Minhyuk does choke then, mostly on air and his own words. Which he has just been forced to ingest at an alarming velocity, because despite all he's said about betting Hoseok had a thing for Hyungwon, he honestly never expected to be _right_. Carefully, he peers at his best friend over the edge of his cupped hands. Says, “You're … _sure_ it was you he was talking to?”

Hyungwon hits him now, long arms and massive hands slapping at Minhyuk in an assault rain of ineffectual blows. Minhyuk shields himself weakly, trying to wriggle out of the way as much as he can. “Ow - ow - stop, okay, I was just _checking_!”

Hyungwon ceases the onslaught. Minhyuk feels bad when he actually looks serious for once, crossing his arms in front of him and lower lip jutting out in thought. So he prompts Hyungwon to continue what he had been saying. “Hoseok-hyung asked you out, and...?”

Petulant, Hyungwon scowls at him. The pout intensifies for a few seconds longer before he gives up, never one to hold a grudge longer than strictly practical. “And,” he starts, “I was thinking we could go on a double date with you and Kihyun.” He nicks one of Minhyuk’s pens - his favourite, but Minhyuk doesn’t object for once - and begins to spin it between his fingers. “Isn’t that new Spiderman out, or something?”

Minhyuk squints at him. “You don’t even watch movies,” he accuses, “Much less superhero ones.”

This is gospel truth. The only thing Hyungwon does at home is tuck himself into his bed, blanket pulled up completely to his chin, and binge-watch anime, laptop perched precariously on his bony chest. Sometimes, if he’s feeling _extra_ lively, he’ll even remember to turn the lights on before he does this, saving his eyes from the glare.

Minhyuk knows this because he has participated, multiple times. He has a distinct memory of Hyungwon’s mother entering the room to call them for dinner, only to gaze blandly upon the two of them, like so many sausages tucked lovingly beneath a quilt of aluminium foil upon a grill, lit in the waning daylight by nothing but the blue light of a laptop. The absolute resignation on her face as she had done an abrupt about turn will remain with him until his dying day.

“Hoseok-hyung wanted to,” Hyungwon states plainly, staring at Minhyuk like he’s the dumb one and isn’t basically doing the teenage boy equivalent of expressing everlasting love. “So?”

Minhyuk takes a while to catch up, thinking bitterly about what it must be like to not be running everything you say around in circles in your own head until you exhaust yourself with longing. “So... what?” He’s confused. “I think he likes you and you should go for it.”

Hyungwon looks more disappointed in him than his mother had in them. But Minhyuk sees where he gets it from. “I mean the double date,” he says. “You and the ratboy. Wanna come with?”

“Don’t talk about my boyfriend like that,” Minhyuk retorts jokingly, ignoring the thud in his chest when he gets to say the word. “I’ll ask him, I guess? We don’t have any plans for tomorrow yet, I don’t think.”

Hyungwon sucks in his cheeks sharply, squishing his lips together until he resembles a remarkably human-sized fish. “Thought you said he wasn’t your boyfriend,” he quips, then ruffles Minhyuk’s hair with one of his creepy, big hands placatingly. “And sure. Just let me know whenever.”

Which in reality means within the week, because there isn't a Minhyuk and Kihyun after that. His heart thuds aloud again, this time hollowly. “We'll make it happen,” he promises, but it's more for his own benefit than Hyungwon's.

 

-

 

Kihyun meets him by the classroom door, after school. When he sees Minhyuk his face blooms into a smile, and he goes to him instantly, folding into an arm that Minhyuk doesn't even realise he's holding out.

“I missed you,” he says, in a very small voice, quiet in the space by Minhyuk's ear. There's hardly enough time to process what he's said before Kihyun pulls away, taking his hand and starting to walk.

Minhyuk follows dumbly, head swimming from the proximity. Pointedly he avoids the knowing looks he gets from their classmates. “We're going to your house, right?”

They'd discussed this; neither being keen on spending too much, Minhyuk had asked if there was anything they could do at either of their houses or somewhere free. At this Kihyun had mentioned he had a gaming console, and Minhyuk had jumped at the chance.

Kihyun hums. “Yeah. There's a park nearby too, if we get bored.” At the exit of the main building Minhyuk tugs at him, redirecting his path for the bicycle park.

Kihyun furrows his brow in apparent thought. “You wanna go by bike?”

“Yeah,” Minhyuk confirms. “I forgot to tell you the other time, but like, if you don't live too far away, we could share…?”

Kihyun tilts his head up at him, looking a little bit doubtful. “Okay,” he agrees, anyway.

 

It's how they find themselves, ten minutes later, arrested by a mixture of amusement, exhilaration, and pure fear as they sail down a hill. Kihyun is seated on the bicycle seat behind Minhyuk, arms tight around his waist as - being taller and also the owner of said bike - Minhyuk balances himself on the crossbar, eyes blown wide and hair messy from the force of the wind.

Somebody is screaming. It takes Kihyun a while to process that it’s him, eyes rigidly glued shut as they are, the side of his face buried into the space between Minhyuk’s shoulderblades. For the most part, the other boy seems to be having fun - Minhyuk is laughing, shouting something that is mostly eaten by the wind buffeting them both.

“ _What?_ ” Kihyun calls back, very determinedly not looking at the way greenery is whipping by. “I can’t hear you!”

He feels, rather than hears, Minhyuk’s laugh through the bone of his back. With a bump or two and some clever application of the brakes they’re back on solid ground, drifting along at a speed that is still quick, but far more manageable. “I said that was fun.”

“You’re completely insane,” Kihyun mumbles, finally raising his head from Minhyuk’s shoulders. He leaves his hands where they are. “That was dangerous as hell.”

Minhyuk thinks about the last time Hyungwon had said nearly the exact same thing about him, and how that got him where he is now, laughing at Kihyun with his arms wrapped around his waist. “Maybe,” he says, “But it was fun.”

Kihyun hums in return, but doesn’t dispute the statement. “I wouldn’t have let you bike if I’d remembered the terrain,” he says instead. Watches as they cruise past a couple on the sidewalk, hands linked. In a flash they’re past them. Kihyun twists his head back to look, anyway, vainly trying to watch.

Minhyuk’s pout is audible in his voice when he asks, “Why?”

Kihyun counts the blocks of flats. “Turn left here,” he instructs. “Because I could’ve fallen and died, you idiot.”

“Eh?” Minhyuk sounds assured when he remarks, breezily, “I wouldn’t have let you.”

He starts laughing, then, evidently pleased with the execution of his line. Kihyun huffs and unwraps one hand from around his waist so he can hit him in the shoulder in irritation, “Ah,” he bemoans noisily, returning the hand to the position it was in earlier. “I liked you better when you were shy.”

“Do you really?” Minhyuk asks, glancing over his shoulder to meet Kihyun’s gaze. Silently Kihyun gestures for him to take another left onto a smaller road. Minhyuk slows as they enter it, mindful of the narrower space.

Something hits his shoulder blade as Kihyun sinks his head back down with a thud. “No,” he admits, “I don’t”.

In this moment Minhyuk is brave. Warmed by the evening sun, blood racing in his chest despite the wind chill, he leans back just a little bit, enough to remind Kihyun that he is there. “I thought so.”

 

-

 

When Kihyun unlocks the door, he shuffles in first, awkwardly taking off his shoes before waving vaguely towards the rest of the house, which is unlit, glowing orange in the sinking sun. “Here’s… my house, I guess,” he says, looking suddenly unsure of himself. “Um, my room’s upstairs. Just… follow me.”

The only shoes besides Kihyun’s white sneakers are a few pairs of women’s heels, stacked neatly in a shoe cabinet. Minhyuk lets his nearly identical pair join Kihyun’s, mindful not to make a mess, and steps into the house proper. Jaeeun is parked outside, leaned against a tree by the gate.

“Thanks for inviting me again,” he chirps up, trying to break the strange silence that has fallen upon the two of them in the large, empty house. “I was gonna cry if I had to spend any more money. I already had to make Hyungwon buy me lunch today.”

Ahead of him on the stairs, Kihyun snorts. “What’ve you been blowing your cash on,” he asks, “It’s not my fault, I hope.”

Minhyuk makes an innocent noise. “ _Well…._ ” he says, dragging out the syllable. “Not _yet_ , it isn’t.”

Kihyun stops so abruptly on the landing that Minhyuk walks straight into him, and they both nearly go tumbling backwards.”What do you mean not _yet_ ,” he asks suspiciously, whirring around and squinting at Minhyuk. “What are you planning. Out with it, fiend.”

Minhyuk realises, with a start, that this is the first he’s seen of Kihyun that isn’t the eternally gracious gentleman. He blinks once, then twice, then beams widely, the smile splitting his face into two. “I was hoping to take you out,” he says slyly, “After school tomorrow, and then all day on the weekends.”

Kihyun looks at him for a bit, expression unreadable, then turns around and continues up the last flight of steps. “You don’t have to pay me to go along, you know,” he says, “I don’t say no to a date, that’s kind of the deal.”

Minhyuk scrunches his face up in dissatisfaction, even though he knows Kihyun can’t see him. “I know,” he says, “But I just want to.” _Impress you_ , his brain fills in, traitorously. _I’m trying to impress you, even if I know it’s going to be futile in the end_.

They cross the remaining short distance to a door, which Kihyun pushes open, turning on the light as he does. He stands to the side to let Minhyuk in, then comes in after him, closing the door behind them both. “Well, if you insist,” he says, vaguely. Then he sweeps a hand out in the direction of the space. “Tadah. My room.”

He takes a few more steps towards a wardrobe set into the wall, then tugs the door open, disappear behind it as he rummages around. “I’m gonna change, make yourself comfortable.” Kihyun emerges with an armful of clothing before scurrying off into an attached bathroom, locking the door behind him.

Well, then. Minhyuk takes the opportunity to look around the space. It’s maybe fifty percent larger than the room Minhyuk has in his family’s flat in the other direction from school, which makes sense, because while Minhyuk stays on the side closer to the city centre, right now they’re in the suburbs, with rows of landed housing tucked into quiet lanes.

There’s a reading sill by wide windows that are currently painting the walls of the room orange with light; Minhyuk sees a stack of books next to a stuffed shark and a cushion. A study desk sits right against most of its length. On it he can see a laptop neatly shut and a small pile of textbooks, arranged beneath a desk lamp.

To the right of the desk a small stepladder leads to the reading nook; on the other side Kihyun’s bed is set against the wall, neatly made in sheets of a pale blue. The wall - a standard cream - sports an assortment of photographic postcards and prints, and a small distance from the foot of the bed is an electronic keyboard, the kind people in rock bands use at gigs.

Minhyuk sits down very carefully on the edge of the bed, rearranging his limbs neatly so they don’t get in the way. There’s something assuring about the entire space - it’s tidy, yes, which is already a massive improvement on his own, but moreso than that it reminds him of its owner.

He takes a deep breath in. Holds it there for a solid few moments before daring to let it out. _Get a grip, Lee._

There’s the sound of a knob turning, and the click of a lock sliding out of place. Kihyun appears, now in a t-shirt and shorts, uniform tucked somewhere out of sight. Without the blazer and clean, pressed lines he looks smaller, somehow. Less undefeatable.

“What do you wanna play?” Kihyun asks as he comes over, hand pushing through his hair. “I’ve got a bunch of games, you can take your pick.” From a drawer he produces a Switch, and with his head indicates for Minhyuk to look in, where an array of game boxes rest, greeting him cheerfully.

“I - uh,” Minhyuk stumbles, distracted by a flash of collarbone under the loose neck of the shirt collar, “That - Overcooked, I think I’ve played that one before, it’s fun, right?”

Kihyun smiles a little bit, reaching in to slide the carton out and popping it open to retrieve the cartridge. “Sure is,” he says, a teasing edge to his voice, “If you don’t slow me down.”

 

“Prawn prawn prawn prawn _prawn_ ,” Kihyun is chanting, eyes fixed on the screen as his avatar scuttles about on its short little legs. “We gotta serve this, come on -”

Minhyuk panics, running around the obstacle in the middle of his section and depositing a pot of rice in the middle of nowhere because he’s _stressed,_ damn it. “I’m trying, hold on - let me just - _the pot’s on fire how do I make it stop being on fire_ -”

Kihyun’s avatar drops the cucumber (Minhyuk had made a noise of rage upon first seeing it) and scrambles over for the fire extinguisher, but it’s too late. The timer rings, ending the round, and announces their rather pathetic score.

Minhyuk grins sheepishly and sets his controller down before unfurling into a stretch, full-body. He relaxes, and turns back to Kihyun - whose gaze flickers _up_ to meet his, which then makes Minhyuk aware of the fact that he must have been looking down, where his shirt would’ve ridden up, and suddenly the large room is small, and warm, and it is a little bit hard to breathe.

“Uhm,” Minhyuk starts, licking his lips nervously. Kihyun looks distracted for a moment before he focuses fully, eyebrows raised in a silent signal for Minhyuk to go on. “Remember that thing you said to me?”

It feels like there’s a fuzzy static in the silence when Kihyun cocks his head, and asks very slowly, “Which one?”

The white noise grows louder. Minhyuk inhales, and leans forward, and blurts, “Can I kiss you?”

Kihyun’s perfect lips curve into a smile. “Yeah,” he says, “Told you you only had to ask.”

This time Minhyuk leans in first, hesitant. The position is kind of awkward, the way he’s seated cross-legged on the inner space of the bed, so it takes a clumsy half-scramble, half-crawl for him to smush their lips together. Kihyun catches him, hands falling on his waist - and tugs him over, separating awkwardly for a while so Minhyuk can scoot himself close until he’s seated sideways on the edge, one leg crossed, the other foot-on-the-floor.

“Again?” Kihyun smiles, hands burning into Minhyuk’s skin over the fabric of his uniform shirt, and Minhyuk thinks about the futility of certain questions when the answer is so vividly known, pressing in for another kiss, this time letting his eyes properly fall shut.

Kihyun’s lips are as dry as he remembers. But what he hadn’t noticed, before, was an insistent warmth just beneath the surface. He sighs, just a little, and then Minhyuk is consumed with want, head dizzy from the tingle of those hands on his waist. His own find their places on Kihyun’s frame - one on his thigh, the other the low jut of his hipbone.

It takes that - and him leaning in, own lips parted - for the kiss to deepen. Unsure what to do, Minhyuk lets Kihyun lead, responding tentatively in kind. His heart is flighty in his chest, and he shuffles closer awkwardly, wanting badly to be good - be enough.

They break, for air. In the imaginary space between them Kihyun rests their foreheads together, mumbles, “Hey.”

Minhyuk swallows his desire whole. Breathes, “Hey.”

The orange of the sky has by now bled into a shallow blue. In the departing light Minhyuk picks out the sharp line of Kihyun’s nose, the softer slopes of his cheeks. His next exhale stutters, a preface to his leaning in, scooting nearer still until his knee bumps into Kihyun’s. This time he feels readier for the crash, the desperate tide that stirs about his lungs and surges towards the shore.

Which must be Kihyun, in this metaphor; he huffs a noiseless laugh - or maybe it’s something else, Minhyuk doesn’t know - as his folded leg comes to overlap with Minhyuk’s, so he’s half in his lap, hands cradling his head like something precious, rare, whole. He links his own awkward hands around the small of Kihyun’s back, and squeezes his eyes shut, unwilling to let go.

His hands itch. He wants - Minhyuk doesn’t know what he wants. His hands tug at the fabric of Kihyun’s loose old t-shirt, and suddenly he is acutely aware of the warmth there, Kihyun’s bare skin pressing against his creased uniform pants, the slight calluses on his thumbs just above where jaw meets neck. He pushes back, trying desperately to say something, with words he doesn’t have the means to voice aloud.

Nobody had told him that yearning could feel so much like hunger.

They pull apart. Kihyun’s lids hang low, lashes long against his cheek in the dim aftercast of dusk, and Minhyuk watches his deeper breaths, feels his own heart stuttering in time with the rise and fall. “We should,” Kihyun mumbles, words strangely loud in the silence, “We should probably stop.”

Minhyuk feels the earth still. But Kihyun’s hands are still on him, having fallen now to his neck. It grounds him when he says, “What?”

Kihyun bites his lip and puffs out his cheeks in response. “I mean,” he says, sheepish. “I’m not… I don’t think.” Unable to complete the rest of his sentence, he gestures vaguely downwards with his left hand. “You know,” he says.

Oh. Minhyuk imagines he would be an endearing pink if the light hadn’t washed everything out into a deep, mellow blue. Shifting, he realises Kihyun isn’t alone. And he wants to say it - wants to ask, but then, but then.

Instead he shuts his eyes for a moment, and leans into the hand that remains loosely curled against his neck, wrist a solid weight on his collarbone. Takes a while to collect himself before he nods. “Yeah,” Minhyuk says, “Yeah.”

Then Kihyun has the audacity to laugh. “Sorry,” he says, cheeky. “I have that effect on people.”

The vulnerability from earlier is gone, tucked beneath something like bravado. Minhyuk thinks he knows it by name, but doesn’t press. Gently he reaches up and pulls Kihyun’s arm away, letting their hands linger close on the bedspread when he tells him, regretfully, “I think I have to go, anyway. Told my mom I’d be back for dinner.”

Kihyun tilts his head. For a moment Minhyuk feels a stab of injustice at the way he manages to look at him like he’s - important, when he says, pouting, “I’ll walk you out?”

He looks away. To the desk, where Kihyun’s bag rests on a chair, the outline of a familiar keychain glinting barely in the residual dregs of ambient light. Breathes in, then out, then says, smiling, “Okay.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always... drop me a note if you have anything nice at all to say xo


	5. Friday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minhyuk opens his mouth, then closes it, and thinks very hard about how some boys just want to watch the world burn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for the record min and hyungeonie say some teenage boy ass shit for like 2s. its not offensive or anything their just dumb im just lettin u know x

You’d think Friday would be the shortest day of the school week, considering how close freedom is, but it’s been three hours and Minhyuk cannot believe class hasn’t ended, the way it’s been dragging on.

He glances up at the class clock. It’s been an entire fifteen minutes.

Groaning discreetly, Minhyuk surveys his surroundings a little bit. Hyungwon is unconscious, as per usual. In front of him Bumsoo is studiously taking notes - Minhyuk internally scoffs a little bit - and in front of  _ him _ Donghan is paying attention as well, meaning Minhyuk is relatively well hidden behind a cover of alert heads.

Well, then. Discreetly he slides his phone out of his pencil case and onto his desk, flicking the screen on. There’s a conversation he’s been meaning to have, anyway, ever since Hyungwon had brought it up. Before all of this had happened.

 

_ minhyuk _

Hey hansollie texting you on the off chance you’re not paying attention in class either

but like……….

can i ask you something?

_ hansol _

HI hyung!! yeah you guessed right haha

Wassup?

 

Minhyuk twiddles his thumbs. They’re not terribly close - just friends of friends, the common denominator being Changkyun, an art club junior with a freakish talent for drawing plants and nothing else. They’ve hung out all of three times, and each has been to partake in boring teenage boy activities, like LAN gaming in internet cafes. Not exactly conducive to the kind of conversation Minhyuk wants to have.

And yet.

 

_ minhyuk _

well it's kinda 

weird 

but uh

it's about yoo kihyun

_ hansol _

o

what about?

 

Minhyuk hesitates. Glances up at Ms Jung, who's saying - well, she's saying something, certainly, but he's never been any good at English. Bumsoo raises his hand and answers a question, and Minhyuk rolls his eyes before turning back to his phone, fingers twitching. 

 

_ minhyuk _

you did the week thing with him, right?

How

 

He pauses. Thinks about what he wants to say next. Settles for understating his case.

 

_ minhyuk _

how was he like?

 

The pause before the little bubble pops up feels infinitely long. The time during which it blinks slowly is even longer. Minhyuk has the time to glance up and take a few halfhearted notes before Hansol finishes typing his reply.

 

_ hansol _

he’s uh

kind of distant?

like he's great and all but

uh

he's not always all there

does that sound weird?

 

Minhyuk reads the words over a few times, contemplating. Doesn't really know what to make of them at the present, but at the same time -

 

_ minhyuk _

like he's trying too hard to be like that?

_ hansol _

well

yeah, i guess

Why?

 

He stares at the screen for a little bit longer. Raises his head, and smiles attentively in Ms Jung’s direction so she doesn’t toss him out of class (again) before glancing back down, still thinking about what to say.

 

_ minhyuk _

just wondering

 

And then he shouldn’t ask, but he wants to, and they’re already in this conversation, so he adds:

 

_ minhyuk _

dyou know if he has like, a formula?

 

No sooner has he asked the question than does he feel bad - wonders if he can take it back, rescind the conversation, and just finish up the last three days in some kind of happy, hazy peace. It isn’t - and he  _ knows  _ this - it isn’t Kihyun’s fault that he’s gone and gotten extra invested in something that always had an expiration date. By probing he’s probably just making things worse for himself. 

But his heart is heavy in his chest, and altogether too ponderous a thing to hold for too long. He wants to know, before it drives him mad wondering.

 

_ hansol _

eeh

idk if you can call it that like

theres only so many things you can do here yknow?

school roof lunch

go somewhere they like

uhh 

watch a movie i guess

 

He feels his heart give in to gravity.  _ Sometimes you are such a fucking idiot _ . Breathing in, then out, he focuses on not sounding anything near as affected as he is.

 

_ minhyuk _

did he bring you to look at bugs hehe

_ hansol _

YEAH actually

hung out and asked me questions too

even though i could tell he was scared of them

like

he’s nice like that, yknow?

 

He knows. He wishes he didn’t, but he does - whatever is said about Yoo Kihyun, the one thing that isn’t understated is his ability to know exactly how to handle a situation. He seems to have some heretofore unknown-of fount of kindness slash tact slash knowing just resting inside his tiny head, and even thinking about that causes a sharp, uncomfortable spike to lodge in Minhyuk’s chest.

Because he’s just being nice, that’s all.

He glances up at the class clock. Still half a block to go. Back down to his phone, then. Minhyuk sucks a deep breath in to try to suppress the strange unrest rearing its head within his sternum, and decides to close off the conversation for now.

 

_ minhyuk _

yeah

i know

!

ANYWAY 

thanks for the chat hansollie i’ll catch you around?

_ hansol _

haha sure hyung

anytime :)

  
  


Minhyuk types out a last cursory  _ :)  _ before thumbing Kihyun’s chat open, remembering what he’d promised Hyungwon and had completely forgotten to ask the day before, having been … otherwise preoccupied. 

He sinks his face lower into his collar when he remembers what Kihyun’s contact name is, tamping down on the voice inside his head that tells him not to get too far ahead of himself. Focuses on getting what he needs and going, the way it seems Kihyun is, too.

 

_ minhyukkie _

hey ki you can just respond when you see this i think youre probably paying attention in class but like

i forgot to ask you yesterday

um

do you wanna go to the movies with hyungwonie and hoseok-hyung?

and me i mean 

haha after school todayyui

 

He gets the fright of his life when the typing icon pops up just as he's finishing off the last sentence, finger going stray on the keyboard with shock.  _ Does  _ nobody _ around here listen during class time, _ he thinks bitterly.

 

_ minhyuk _

today*

_ KIHYUNIE♡ _

oh

like a double date?

sure :)

 

And there it is, what he'd been afraid to say, cast out in plain black text on an unassuming grey background. Minhyuk stares at it unblinking for a while, startling when the typing bubble pops up again, flickering for what Minhyuk begins to believe is far longer than strictly necessary until the next message sends.

 

_ KIHYUNIE♡ _

cant wait to see you ^^

 

It takes everything in him to suppress the urge to flip his table and scream - mostly only because Ms Jung has it out for him already. But his painstakingly exercised self restraint has very little payoff; when he lifts his head from where he'd dramatically dropped it onto the table in frustration, it is to see her staring straight at him, face locked in a moue of distaste.

Minhyuk straightens up very slowly, like he is the prey and she the ill-sighted but furious bull, and when that doesn't dislodge her gaze he smiles very sheepishly and as politely as he can. 

“Hi?” he tries, indiscreetly turning off his phone and flipping it over in the general direction of his pencil case. “Nice day we're having, isn't it?” 

Across the classroom, someone snickers. Ms Jung looks at him for a moment more, then shakes her head, turning away with a gusty sigh. 

“See me after class, Mr Lee,” she chastises, turning back to the whiteboard and rapping against its surface with the back of her marker. “And  _ pay attention _ .”

“Now on page 43 we will see a table. Can anybody tell me the synonym in the passage for  _ enamoured _ ?....”

 

-

 

Minhyuk is packing up his materials at the end of an arduous school day when a shadow falls over his desk, a quiet space in the cacophony of everybody getting ready to go home.

Somehow, he's surprised, even having known there was only one person it could be. “Hello,” Kihyun greets politely, smiling with all his teeth, that cheek-dimpled, eye-crescenting smile. Minhyuk's breath catches and rattles against his teeth. “You ready to go?”

“You came into my classroom,” he says dumbly, stuffing his textbook into his rucksack. He picks up his pencil case and stills, setting it back down, turning towards Kihyun like there's something he wants to say about that.

Kihyun tilts his head in question. “Is that weird?” he asks, “I can wait outside, if you'd like.” 

It isn't, and that's the problem. Minhyuk carefully avoids the passing curious gazes of his classmates, very resolutely  _ not _ making eye contact with Bumsoo when he shakes himself out of it, dropping the last item into his backpack and zipping it up with a flourish. 

“No, no,” he says instead, “Hyungwonie is right here, anyway.”

Speaking of Hyungwon. A long, slanting shadow casts itself over them both. They both turn to look to find Hyungwon hunched to meet both their eye levels, shiny eyes round. “Hyungwonie  _ is _ right here,” he says, not at all uncannily, shifting his bag loosely in his grip. “Shall we go?”

Minhyuk blinks once, twice. Holds out an arm, which Kihyun naturally steps into, so he can pull him behind him to safety. “Stop looking like that,” he complains. “You’re scaring my boyfriend.”

He’s half-joking, really, but is almost certain he doesn’t imagine the light squeeze Kihyun presses into his palm at the statement. Hyungwon straightens up, so he has to peer down his nose at Minhyuk when he scoffs, “I can’t help it. This is just my face.”

“Sorry for your loss,” Minhyuk throws back, trying to distract himself from how warm Kihyun is pressed into his side as he leads them both out of the classroom.

“Hoseok-hyung likes it, that’s enough for me.” Hyungwon’s sniffle is loud but mostly put upon behind them both. “He’s certainly a better catch than  _ you _ are.”

Minhyuk doesn’t have time to think of a retort before Kihyun is chiming in. “I’m hurt at the insinuation about my taste,” he quips. “Minhyuk is a  _ fantastic _ choice, I’ll have you know.”

Hyungwon raises both his eyebrows while lowering his lids, giving him a grand canyon of wrinkles in his forehead to match his mouth, downturned in disagreement.  “One man’s meat, another man’s poison,” he jibes, playing along. Mercifully, he doesn’t say anything about how Minhyuk wasn’t actually a choice.

Outside the classroom, Hoseok is leaning against the pillar, idly thumbing away at his phone as a few star-struck students walk by and giggle furiously while looking at him. 

He seems to sense their approach, though, and pockets his phone, looking up at the three of them as they near, handsome face breaking into an open beam upon seeing Hyungwon. It’s all very rom-com; Minhyuk groans internally.

“You made it,” Hoseok chirps, unnecessarily, because it isn’t exactly a Herculean task to cross the three meters from their classroom door to the end of the corridor. Minhyuk wisely repays Hyungwon’s favour, and doesn’t say anything, opting instead for giving his frozen best friend a little shove forward.

“Sure did,” Minhyuk tosses back in reply, when it becomes clear that Hyungwon is a little too nervous to actually open his mouth to say it for himself. “Anyway, we can take the bus to the cinema from here, right?”

The four of them make their way down the stairs and across the courtyard. Outside the sun beats down brightly; as Hoseok nods in confirmation Kihyun tugs at his hand a little bit, and when Minhyuk turns his head to look at him his face is set into a squint that accentuates a prominent pout. 

“Aww, no bike ride,” he complains, like that’s a thing you just say, out loud, in front of other people. Without fear of God, or any consequences, or like, personal embarrassment.

Minhyuk opens his mouth, then closes it, and thinks very hard about how some boys just want to watch the world burn. “Uh, no,” he says after a few attempts, licking his lips desperately like it’s the answer to all his articulation problems. “I - we could, if you wanna, but - we’re going with Hyungwon and Hoseok-hyung, so…”

He’s cut off by a laugh, and Kihyun’s looking at him in a way that is altogether unfamiliar and frightening.  _ And impossible _ , he thinks,  _ cut it with the rose-tinted lenses _ . 

“It’s fine, I was kidding,” he explains, tugging at their hands again. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

At the bus stop, Hyungwon toddles over to the signboard and jabs a scrawny finger at it, reading off with careful precision. “We can take bus 53,” he announces. “Or 74. Whichever comes first.”

It’s crowded, and slightly stressfully so; the after-school herd clusters about the small shelter and makes it claustrophobic, so the four of them stand off to the side and watch as busloads of their schoolmates squeeze on, homebound. Hyungwon, Hoseok and Minhyuk make idle small talk while Kihyun leans against a pillar, watching and saying very little.

Thankfully, it isn’t long before their bus arrives, and the four of them get on. Most of the crowd having dispersed, and being bound for the cinema, the bus is relatively less stuffed, and they manage to find seats, splitting to sit two by two a good number of rows apart.

“I don’t know why I didn’t make you get in first,” Minhyuk huffs, arms resting precariously on his knees. His feet are propped up by the bus wheel bump, and altogether he knows he must look quite compressed, lanky form folding like a collapsible chair into storage. “You’re so  _ small _ . Instead I have to suffer.”

Next to him, Kihyun is seated very neatly, small feet planted square on the ground, school bag resting on his lap. “You were just being considerate,” he offers, smile delicate on his lips. When he leans sideways to drop his head onto Minhyuk’s shoulder the keychain attached to his bag clacks loudly, jostling with the movement of the bus. “Thank you, by the way.”

This last comment is made cheekily, and with so much confidence Minhyuk is temporarily baffled. “How do you always,” he starts, but then Kihyun’s head is a comforting weight against his arm, and the fight leaves him, as does his will to complete the sentence.

He can feel Kihyun shift beside him to peer upwards in question. “How do I always what?”

He wilts like a head of lettuce in the Sahara. “Nevermind,” he mumbles, shifting so Kihyun is more comfortable, himself leaning lightly against the side of the window. “It’s not really important.”

Kihyun hums mindlessly, a comforting thrum through the skin of his uniform shirt, dancing along his bones. “Okay,” he says, and then suddenly pushes into Minhyuk’s space, rolling them both closer towards the window. A hand comes up to press against the glass as he says, excitedly, “Look! Dog!”

Minhyuk’s head whips around automatically, looking for the dog. “Where -  _ ohhhhhh puppy puppy puppy puppy _ .” He presses himself against the glass, careless of the faces that must have been there before, so he can see it better. 

The traffic light must turn green, then, because the bus rolls on from its momentary halt. Minhyuk turns his head to chase the last few glimpses of the sidewalk corgi anyway, doleful. It takes him a while to become aware of the laughter at his side. “What?” he asks, settling back into place.

Kihyun grins. “That was a full grown dog, Min.” His head tips one way, then the next, his gaze never wavering as he does. Minhyuk finds himself missing the weight on his shoulder.

“So?” Minhyuk pouts, wounded both by the fleeting vision and Kihyun’s mockery. “All dogs are puppies if you believe.” He’s articulated the same to Hyungwon before, and received a shove for his best efforts, but Minhyuk believes in standing up for what you believe in, and he _ believes in universal puppyhood, damnit _ .

Kihyun only laughs. Plays absently with the charm on his bag, gazing somewhere near the front of the bus. “You know what,” he says, at length, “I think you’re right.”

 

-

 

Two stops (post-corgi) later, they’ve alighted outside the local cinema, and are aimlessly inspecting the movie posters on display. Their movie having been decided earlier, there is no further decision to be made, but it’s fun to see the titles anyway. Minhyuk tugs Hyungwon in to his side as they both snicker at the promotional image for a high school rom-com, starring some idol actor or the other alongside a famous rising star actress.

“Hyungeonah, you be the girl, hold on -” he instructs, manhandling Hyungwon into position. “Okay, I’ll just do this, and… yeah you have to lift your leg and point it -”

“I’m taller than you,” Hyungwon points out blandly, “Shouldn’t you be the girl?”

“Nope,” Minhyuk chirps, cheerful. “Now don’t be sexist! Height has no gender!”

Hyungwon rolls his eyes and mutters darkly under his breath, but concedes the point, despite how Minhyuk knows that he was really only using the movie poster as reference. Clapping him companionably on the arm, Minhyuk looks around for either Kihyun or Hoseok to help them take a picture for posterity, only to find neither of them in sight.

“Didn’t they get off with us,” he asks Hyungwon, confused.

“Your arms are around my waist, and I don’t like you like that,” comes the deadpan reply.

Minhyuk separates them both with a testy noise, taking hold of Hyungwon by the sleeve and tugging him along. “We lost our dates, and now we’re stuck with each other,” he grumbles. “Seven years is  _ enough _ , I say,  _ enough _ .”

“How do you think I feel,” Hyungwon mutters spitefully. Then, sensible: “They’re probably just getting tickets or something.”

“What -  _ nooo _ ,” Minhyuk groans, batting Hyungwon out of the way so he can go further in to the theatre and locate the ticketing counter. “I can't let him pay -  _ Yoo Kihyun, what do you think you're doing _ ?”

Kihyun glances up in some surprise, eyes round. Two tickets are clutched in his hand, where he had been inspecting them. “Buying our tickets?” He asks, hesitantly. “For...the movie?”

Minhyuk storms up to him, snatching the tickets out of his hand a bit more huffily than he'd strictly intended to. “I can't let you pay,” he scolds, reaching for his wallet.

“I already did, though,” Kihyun sing-songs not a little triumphantly, swiping the tickets back. “You paid for the keychains anyway, so it was my turn.”

“Those were like 5,000 won each, Ki, these are like twice that.”

Kihyun compromises. “How about you get the snacks?”

In response, Minhyuk scrunches up his nose, pouting. “Okay, fine,” he says at last. Catching Kihyun by the sleeve, he tugs him over to the snack stand and points at the signboard menus. “You pick what to get,” he insists, fingers curling in the fabric in a childlike grip.

Kihyun slants his gaze upwards at him, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. “What do you like?” 

Minhyuk’s pout grows more pronounced. “I said  _ you _ pick,” he protests, not liking the return of Diplomat Kihyun. “Okay, let's do it like this. Salted, sweet, or mixed?”

Kihyun humours him. “Mixed. Each flavour is way too much otherwise.”

In response Minhyuk blows a raspberry. “Sometimes you are wrong,” he tells him very seriously, “but I'm fine with that too. I'll go get it. Coke okay?”

He sets off after receiving an affirmative; when he walks back to Kihyun, happily brandishing the massive tub of popcorn in his direction, Hoseok and Hyungwon are there, wearing matching expressions of mild amusement.

“What?” he asks, upon reaching them.

Hoseok shakes his head a little bit. “You guys act kinda married,” he says, “It's cute.”

Next to him, Minhyuk feels Kihyun freeze. He shares a look with Hyungwon that confirms his suspicions - sweet and generally unsuspecting, their senior doesn't know.

“Oh look at the time!” Hyungwon sweeps in to the rescue, gesturing awkwardly towards the room even though there are no visible clocks near them. “We should get going, don't wanna miss the - uh - fifteen minutes of trailers, c'mon, chop chop…”

 

 

“You okay?” Minhyuk whispers to Kihyun, when the lights are dimmed and the trailers have started playing. He looks a little grumpy, his chin turning walnut-like with his petulance.

“Nuh...just cold.” Kihyun sounds a little sleepy, for a moment; then he snaps out of it, and reaches down for his schoolbag, rummaging around for a while until he produces a hoodie from its depths. “A-ha,” he crows, and proceeds to put it on.

He swims in the garment. Minhyuk is seized by a sudden urge to touch him, then, but in the same moment Kihyun is turning back to the screen, one hand hugging the popcorn to himself. 

He takes a few pieces to chew, then turns to Minhyuk, tilting the carton towards him in offer. His cheeks are round, and he's clearly distracted, glancing between Minhyuk and the trailer for a new animated movie as he does so. He's saying something, but Minhyuk, for once, isn't listening. 

The blue light of the cinema screen paints his features in cool contrast against deep, warm shadow. Minhyuk is stricken by the thought that this is about as unburdened as he has ever seen him, that this Kihyun is as close to genuine as he might get.

It sinks a stone from his chest straight into his gut. He doesn't know what to do in the face of such raw honesty, knows only that no matter what he does, it isn't his to keep.

He shakes himself out of it as the cinema etiquette announcement comes onto the screen. Hefting the massive cup of coke they got to share, Minhyuk takes a cursory sip of it, then presses it onto Kihyun's side of the arm rest.

When the other boy turns, brows raised in question, Minhyuk jogs the cup a bit so that the clack of ice cubes makes his point for him. He points at the popcorn, mouths  _ tradesies _ ?, and tucks the smile he earns in exchange safely into a corner of his mind, wrapped in layers of silk for keeping. 

 

-

 

After, they clear out of the theatre idly, Hoseok and Hyungwon chattering away excitably about the movie. Or at least Hoseok is - Minhyuk watches as Hyungwon very valiantly tries to match his enthusiasm despite how little he actually cares for the genre, and smiles, fond.  _ He must really like him _ .

“So did it live up to your expectations?” Kihyun bumps lightly into him as they walk. 

Minhyuk thinks about twining their hands together, but can't bring himself to. “I... don't really watch these,” he confesses, “But I did like the explosions.”

Kihyun grinds to a halt, turning to look at him, wide-eyed. “I don't either, I only went along because you did.”

Now Minhyuk is laughing. “Neither does Wonnie, he's only here because Hoseok-hyung wanted to be.”

“Which means…” Kihyun starts.

“...Three of us watched a movie we didn't care about just for Hoseokie-hyung,” Minhyuk finishes for him, laughing. 

“Yeah, well. He  _ is _ charming. I'm not even mad. Like, just having him smile at you makes it kind of worth it,” Kihyun says.

Minhyuk pouts. “I thought you came along for me.”

Kihyun shrugs. “Eh.”

They're walking two by two down the sidewalk, aimless in the late afternoon sun. Ahead of them Minhyuk can make out Hoseok's irrepressible smile as he looks up at Hyungwon, who is no doubt recalling an anecdote about something dumb he's done. Minhyuk feels a stab of envy when he realises that one story here has a fighting chance, and it isn't the one he's in.

Which reminds him. “Hey, Ki.”

A hum, absent. “Yeah?” 

“What Hoseokie-hyung said earlier… do you mind?”

In his peripheral vision he can see Kihyun shaking his head slowly. “No, of course not,” he says.

_ I felt you freeze up, _ Minhyuk doesn't say,  _ Don't lie to me. _ It isn't, after all, his place to demand anything of him.

“Okay then,” he says, instead. “He doesn't know, so…You know. Sorry about that.”

Kihyun shakes his head again, his hair brown in the horizontal sunlight. “It's fine,” he insists, “I don't mind.”

“Hey, guys, wanna go get dinner?” Hoseok hangs back to ask them, all of a sudden. “There's like, a Kyochon over there, if you want.”

Minhyuk purses his lips doubtfully. “Chicken? I'm cool with it, but it's kinda pricey…”

Hoseok laughs, pushing him lightly in the shoulder. “Come on, Min, our first double date! Doesn't that call for chicken?”

_ First, huh.  _ “I mean -” he begins, weakly, but is cut off by Kihyun chirping in agreement. 

“To our first double date,” he cheers, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Well. Any reason is a good reason for chicken, but still.”

Hyungwon, who has backtracked to join the conversation, shrugs when they turn to look at him. “I love chicken, dude.”

  
  


Which is how they end up seated in a nearby Kyochon chicken, Minhyuk slightly agog at the menu while the other three carry on idle conversation. They're sharing a joke, or something, and Minhyuk glances up but misses the punch line; he doesn't mind, not really, until  he realises Kihyun seems more engrossed in the conversation than in his menu-reading difficulties. 

“You order for me,” he decides, shoving the menu childishly over to Kihyun on the tabletop. It clatters, far louder than he'd expected; Minhyuk very deliberately does not look up when he feels the weight of Hyungwon's gaze on him.

Kihyun laughs indulgently, anyway. Curls towards him when he asks,  “Can't decide?”

The urgency wrapping around his ribcage relaxes its grip enough to let him breathe, soothed by the touch of his gaze. “There's like fifty flavours,” he mumbles, sulkily.

“Not really,” Kihyun counters, lightly, patting him consolingly on the wrist. “How's original sound?”

Minhyuk mock-gasps. “We came all the way to  _ Kyochon _ for  _ basic chicken? _ ”

This time the thud of hand on wrist much more closely resembles a slap. “Don't you dare call the heart of all chicken  _ basic _ , you’re showing your lack of culture,” Kihyun tuts, before turning his attention to the other two. “Ready to order?”

Hoseok nods cheerily, so they wave the waiter over and settle into waiting after they've placed their orders, Minhyuk sipping on his iced tea and sitting flush against the back of his seat so he can swing his legs idly, relishing in the momentary quiet.

“Sometimes you're like a kid,” Kihyun observes, low, a conversation intended to be private. 

Minhyuk blows bubbles into his drink in protest.

“Like that,” Kihyun adds, eyes crinkling. “You look all cool when you walk around but you're just a  _ baby _ .”

“Am not,” Minhyuk grouches, straw clenched between his teeth. “Wait, you’ve, you've thought I look cool?”

Kihyun blinks rapidly, as if surprised by something or the other. “No - uh - well - Yeah, like, I've hung out with you the whole week, right?” When he smiles it doesn't sit quite right on his face. “Like, yeah, you seem popular. Like. Cool.”

Minhyuk does his best to hide the disappointment he has no right to feel. “Oh. Well, I'm not.”

“That's not what the grapevine says,” Kihyun tells him, almost cryptically. 

“You pay attention to the grapevine?”

Kihyun glances away. “Well,” he says, “Yeah.”

Minhyuk thinks about the things he's heard about Kihyun through the rumour mill, both kind and not. “Well,” he posits, petulant. “You shouldn't.”

Kihyun picks at a flake in the vinyl of the seat. “Is that so,” he mumbles, noncommittal. At this opportune moment the chicken arrives, and he brightens, ready to dig in.

“You have to enjoy this or you're dead to me,” he tells Minhyuk very seriously, hands curling at the edge of the table. “Chicken is my greatest love in life.”

“Okay, okay,” Minhyuk concedes, laughing. Obediently he reaches for a piece to chew on, mindful of Kihyun's watchful gaze when he bites in. 

“So,” Hoseok asks cheerfully, between bites of chicken from his and Hyungwon's basket, “How did you two meet?”

Minhyuk starts coughing instantly, but Kihyun shrugs, fielding the question easily. “I always thought he was cute, but didn't have a chance. And then he asked me out, so of course I said yes, and here we are.”

Hoseok coos lovingly. “My little junior, all grown up,” he simpers. 

‘“How long have  _ you _ liked Hyungwonnie,” Minhyuk counters, embarrassed. It has the desired effect; Hoseok flushes instantly red to his ears, while Hyungwon's mouth falls open comically.

“Lee Minhyuk - you,” Hyungwon manages. “You. Youuuu.”

Kihyun interjects. “Now now, children,” he says placatingly, with an ease as if they've all been friends for a while. “Don't disrespect the chicken by not giving it full attention.”

Minhyuk regards him in fear and awe. “You're like, a chicken freak. Dude.”

Kihyun only jabs a tender into Minhyuk's mouth in response. "Disrespect," he repeats  warningly.

Hoseok laughs, a bright sound. "I like him," he tells Hyungwon, "I've never seen anyone successfully shut Min up before."

He pauses and regards them both, ruminating. "I think he's good for you."

Hyungwon looks directly at Minhyuk when he responds, mouth twisted into a knot and brows knitted. His expression promises a long lecture at some later juncture.

"Yeah," he agrees, eyes boring two holes into Minhyuk's own, "I do, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow... i got this chapter out.... at last...... blows kisses at you all......lovingly..........


	6. Saturday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minhyuk thinks of that large two-storied suburban house, a boy and a mother who is hardly ever home. The way he dates people for a week then lets them go forever, how that particular preoccupation must mean he hardly has any time to spend with other friends, if he has any. He realises he’s never heard Kihyun talk about his friends.
> 
> Isn’t he lonely?

That night, Minhyuk can’t sleep. The end of the school week has brought with it an immense feeling of doom, like his whole world is about to collapse around him. The weekend, and then - and then there is nothing beyond that, and he knows he’s being overdramatic, that he can’t possibly like this boy that much, but it’s impossible not to feel like he does, he does, and he misses him by his side, hates how they’d barely held hands today, wishes he was here to tell Minhyuk he’s an idiot about any number of things.

He flops over onto his side, staring at his alarm clock, blinking ugly red numbers back at him. _00:25_. Not really late, by any means, but after dinner Kihyun had reminded him about Jaeeun, and walked him back to school, and his heart was so close to bursting at the carefree look on Kihyun’s face Minhyuk had offered him a lift back.

When they’d stopped at his house Kihyun’s eyes had been so bright, and shining, and he’d glanced around quickly before tiptoeing to press a kiss to Minhyuk’s cheek, soft in the growing night.

Then he’d taken a step back, and said “Thank you, see you tomorrow,” and stood by his gate and gone in, and he’d left Minhyuk there, on the sidewalk in front of his house, holding his cheek like some kind of lovestruck _fool_ , like he was an _actual fucking idiot_.

 _Stupid Hyungwon. This is all his fault, for making me think this would be a good idea_.

Angrily, he kicks off his sheets, and rolls onto his back. It would be easy to blame his best friend, but it _isn’t_ Hyungwon’s fault, and he knows it. If all had gone as planned - if only his stupid heart wasn’t so silly, and desperate, and quick to fall for anyone who’d ever shown him the slightest bit of affection - if that had been the case, he wouldn’t be lying here now, staring at his ceiling, wanting to hear Kihyun’s voice so badly it hurts.

 _This is all so fucking pathetic_. _He’ll think I’m sad and - and feel_ bad _for me, or whatever_.

He picks up his phone anyway, clicking the screen on, his apps tray staring him down. A voice that sounds suspiciously like Hyungwon’s, perfectly logical and almost definitely in possession of a motive, says, _But it won’t matter soon anyway, will it?_

He thinks about what Kihyun said about why he does this, thinks about what Bumsoo had called him, tries to be a little more self-protecting, a little more sensible, for once. If Kihyun can go about dating anybody in school, surely at least part of it must be because he likes attention, affection. And if all he is doing is taking, it wouldn’t hurt if he did for once, too, right?

Before a different, separate sensible voice (that would most likely sound like his mother, chiding him about manners and how it just isn’t polite to call past nine pm) can pipe up, Minhyuk has tapped _call_ on Kihyun’s contact, and is holding his phone to his ear, curling onto his side, pressing his stuffed whale into his chest.

It rings once, then twice - then Kihyun is picking up, words clear in a way that makes it evident he hadn’t already been sleeping. It comforts Minhyuk to know that he isn’t inconveniencing him.

“Hey, Min,” Kihyun greets, voice a little scratchy. “What’s up? You’ve never called me before.”

For some bizarre reason, tears are welling up in his eyes at the sound of Kihyun’s voice, familiar but fuzzy with the echo of inferior cell service. “Mmmmmnothing,” he says, too worn out to think of a better excuse, and lets it hang there.

Kihyun’s breathy laughter crackles through the receiver. “Missed me?” he asks, coy as ever.

The boy is a master flirt. But it’s late, and Minhyuk is sadder than he has any business being, and so he says, very honestly, “Yeah.”

“Oh.” For some reason Kihyun sounds a little surprised. Then he recovers, teasing edge back, and quips, “So I take it you got home safely?”

“Why wouldn’t I have?”

He laughs. “Dunno. You might still be standing on my sidewalk, staring off into space, or whatever.”

Minhyuk’s heartache is intensifying, and he doesn’t know why. Maybe it’s the way Kihyun can joke about it so freely, when his attention, to him, is like being given the whole world. He tries for a lightness. “Why would I be doing that?”

Kihyun’s voice is softer this time. Minhyuk can see the way he would tilt his head if he were here, feel the intensity of his eyes on his face. “I saw you, silly.”

A silence follows, then, that strange limbo in between a denial and an admission belying it. A few stray tears really have escaped now, darkening his pillow in large, wet splotches, and Minhyuk momentarily considers hanging up so he doesn’t take out his frustration and impossibly large wanting on Kihyun by saying things like _Why would you tell me, then, if you know?_

His hiccuping sobs aren’t as quiet as he thinks they are. Suddenly Kihyun’s voice is a gush of concern when he asks “Min?”, then - “Minhyuk? Min, sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

He’s never called him that before. Minhyuk tries his best, he really does, but another sob wracks his chest, and he makes a broken sound, unable to stop it, unable to care. “Minhyuk? Why are you crying?”

“M-my dad yelled at me just now,” he lies, stuffing his fist into his mouth and pressing his teeth against it in an effort to quieten his noises. “Didn’t - didn’t wanna be alone.” That much, at least, is close to true.

“Baby.” That, too, is new. The worst part is that Kihyun sounds like he cares, he really does. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No,” Minhyuk says, because then he would have to lie some more, and he just truly isn’t up to that task. And then, because he’s an idiot, he asks, “Tell me - tell me about yourself.”

Kihyun makes a soft _mmm_ over the line. “Okay,” he says, “What do you want to know?”

Minhyuk looks at his stuffed whale contemplatively for a while. He has him for now. That should count for something. “Umm. What did you do after I dropped you off?”

Another laugh. He closes his eyes, trying to memorise the sound. “Well,” Kihyun’s voice says, “I made dinner, since my mom wasn’t home yet, and then I played some games by myself until she was, and then we ate. And then I washed up, and I was doing homework until you called.”

He huffs a short exhale. “Not very exciting, I’m afraid.”

“It’s fine,” Minhyuk mumbles truthfully, “I like hearing you talk.”

Then, quietly: “You don’t have any siblings or anyone else to talk to?”

He gets nervous when Kihyun doesn’t respond for a little while, before answering, very briefly, “No.”

“I’m sorry for asking,” Minhyuk apologises. “I think I crossed a line.”

“No, that’s not it.” Kihyun sounds a little far away when he says, “I just don’t think you need to hear it.”

Minhyuk thinks of that large two-storied suburban house, a boy and a mother who is hardly ever home. The way he dates people for a week then lets them go forever, how that particular preoccupation must mean he hardly has any time to spend with other friends, if he has any. He realises he’s never heard Kihyun talk about his friends.

Isn’t he lonely?

“I’ll listen if you’re ever ready to share,” Minhyuk says, anyway, even though it’s a moot point; he feels awful for asking. Then he gets an idea, and sits up his haste to talk about it. “Hey, Ki.”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s go to the arcade tomorrow,” he gushes, excitedly. “I haven’t been in forever, it’ll be really fun.”

Kihyun doesn’t sound too impressed. “Playing on my Switch is literally free.”

Minhyuk whines. “Please?” he pleads, “It’s not like you had anything else planned, anyway.”

“You don’t know that,” Kihyun protests, but gives in immediately. “Okay, okay, fine. Do I see you there?”

Minhyuk’s about to say yes when he gets a better idea. “No,” he says, “Jaeeun and I will come pick you up.”

“You’re a couple now, are you,” Kihyun says drily, “What does that make me?”

“Both Jaeeun and my boyfriend,” Minhyuk chirps in return, trying very hard not to think about how familiar that word has become in so short a span of time. “All three of us are in a relationship. Is eleven good?”

Kihyun laughs, and it breaks into a yawn. “Should be fine,” he agrees. “Don’t be late, okay?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He means that. “And Ki?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for today. It was really fun.”

A soft, pitched huff of air. “I had fun, too. Goodnight, Min.”

Minhyuk tries to drink in his voice a few moments more. Reluctantly, he says, “Goodnight.”

Then his phone is silent, and he’s left alone with nothing but the sound of his breathing and the pale blue cast of moonlight upon his room.

 

-

 

The next morning, Minhyuk gets up extra early. His mother gives him a weird look when he emerges from his room at nine am sharp, teeth brushed and face washed. He smiles at her with all of his teeth showing. “Morning, mom!”

Her suspicious look only intensifies as she gestures him in the general direction of the dining table. “Breakfast isn't ready yet. You can go join your father with his coffee and morning paper if you want.”

He does _not_ want, so he scoots further into the kitchen instead, hovering over her shoulder to peer at what she's doing. “Pancakes?” he asks, curiously. “Can I help?”

Now she sets the brush she was using to grease the pan down and turns to look at him properly. “Who are you and what have you done with my son,” she demands. “Minhyuk would _never_ be interested in food before it's ready to go straight into his mouth.”

Minhyuk shuts his jaw with a _clack_. She's right; with a start he realises he only asked because on some level he had been thinking about how Kihyun likes cooking, and that meant he should pay a little more attention, too.

“I was just curious,” he defends hastily. “I promise I didn't replace me with a clone.”

His mother sniffles a little, moving to prep the batter for frying. “You're right, a clone wouldn't make such a rudimentary mistake.” Then she turns on the heat and waits a while before pouring the first pancake's worth of batter into the pan. “Going somewhere?”

He purses his lips, already backtracking out of the kitchen. “Yeah, don't make lunch for me. I'll call you about dinner, though.”

She waves him off. “Okay. Go away, I have to cook.”

 

 

Back in his bedroom, Minhyuk realises with a start that he doesn't know what to wear. The entire week they've been going out in their school uniform, but it being Saturday, he's going to have to wear something actually fashionable. He'll have to wear clothes that look good.

He's, like, a seventeen year old boy. His wardrobe consists entirely of identical jeans and like, three t shirts. He has no idea what he's doing.

 _But wait_ , he remembers, _I_ do _have a vain best friend._ He who is at once the creator and answer to all of his problems. The Duality Of Hyungwon.

Whipping out his phone, Minhyuk dials Hyungwon's number. It rings for a long time, before eventually timing out and cutting off. He pulls it away from his ear and stares at his screen, betrayed, until his gaze catches on the little time icon in the upper righthand corner.

 _9.12 am_. On a Saturday. Hyungwon isn't going to be up until three, at least.

Well. Maybe he can do this himself. Storming over to his wardrobe and flinging it open, Minhyuk stares into its abyss bravely, only to find…

That he is nowhere near as strong as he had hoped. Whimpering pathetically, he returns to his phone contacts and scrolls through, trying to find someone else he can consult.

 _This,_ he thinks helplessly to himself, _this is what happens when you have, like, three friends_. In your times of crisis who do you turn to? No one. You exit this world as you were born, alone, naked, and screaming.

He pauses mid mental monologue, thumb hovering over a name. _Choi Hansol_. He really shouldn't; he's asked the kid too much, already. But he's nice, has done the whole song and dance with Yoo Kihyun, and detached enough from the situation that he won't confuse Minhyuk any further.

Making a snap decision, Minhyuk decides to go for it. He doesn't even know if Hansol will be awake, anyway.

 

_minhyuk_

hansollie please say youre awake

please

im having a crisis o͡͡͡͡͡͡╮༼;´༎ຶ.̸̸̸̸̸̸̸̸̸̸̸̸̸̸̨̨̨̨̨̨̨.̸̸̨̨ ༎ຶ༽╭o͡͡͡͡͡͡

_hansol_

o wassup hyung?

 

He heaves a sigh of relief, fingers flying across his keyboard.

 

minhyuk

what do i wear to a date

sorry hyungwons asleep so

hope im not bothering u

_hansol_

its cool i wake at like 8

hmm

what r we working with?

 

Scrambling to his wardrobe again, Minhyuk flings open the door he had miserably shut earlier, snapping a photo of its insides.

 

_minhyuk_

[image attachment]

you can see i dont shop a lot

help

_hansol_

this isnt that bad give me a mo

hmm

ok

how about the black t shirt

and the light wash jeans?

 

Phone in one hand, Minhyuk follows Hansol's directions, pulling out both items of clothing and casting them onto the bed.

 

_minhyuk_

[image attachment]

doesnt this look a little

low effort?

（；へ：）

_hansol_

u can cuff the jeans hyung!!

throw on a nice jacket over it and ull look cool

promise

_hansol is typing…_

 

Minhyuk turns back to his cupboard and pushes the clothes around dolefully. Finding a nice jacket is a lot easier said than done, after all, especially when you’re him. Then suddenly he remembers his 16th birthday present from Hyungwon, an olive bomber jacket that he'd said would _cure some of your dismal dressing_.

Rooting around until he finds it, Minhyuk extracts it with a triumphant cry. _Hyungwon has his uses, after all._ He turns back to the phone to tell Hansol what he's found.

 

_hansol_

just

dont worry too much, hyung

hes just a boy

 

It gives him pause. _Am I really that transparent_? For a while Minhyuk looks at it, wondering whether or not to brush off the advice - and his own feelings, while he’s at it. But even as he thinks it he knows he won’t; he has to _tell_ someone, and if Hansol is willing to listen, then…

 

_minhyuk_

i know but

…

i really like him, hansollie

i know i shouldnt

but i want him to have fun too

_hansol_

thats perfectly reasonable hyung

_minhyuk_

when we played games at his house and

he looked so happy

_(:3 」∠)_

_hansol_

hold on

you went to his house?

_minhyuk_

yeah?

_hansol_

i dont think hes ever done that before

 

Minhyuk stares at the message for a while, cursing his foolish, hopeful heart. Talking about it was supposed to make it _better_ , not _worse_. It takes a few moments before common sense wins out and he can type out his reply.

 

_minhyuk_

oh

um

i think he just wanted to save money

mentioned it yesterday too

why spend money when u have a SWITCH

amiright

_hansol_

hmmmmmmmm

well idk but

maybe?

 

He doesn't know whether he appreciates or begrudges Hansol his neutrality, because this way any conclusions he arrives at are going to have to be his own. Minhyuk is trying to figure out what to say next when his mother calls from the kitchen.

“Minhyuk-ah, food's ready!”

Ah, shit. A quick check of the time also reveals that it's about 9.30, which means that after eating he'll just barely have enough time to shower, get dressed, and go.

 

_minhyuk_

crap i gtg

thanks again for the help

catch you later??

_hansol_

yeah sure yw hyung!!

byebye have fun

:)

_minhyuk_

:)

 

When he emerges his mother looks at him with mild amusement. “I heard you screaming,” she says, “What was that about?”

That really isn't a question he wants to answer at the moment. He opts for a distraction. “Oh these look really good, mom, I love pancakes, wonder if I can eat all of this at once, _aahhhhhmmmm_.”

She looks at him blandly as he shoves a slice cut out of a stack of five pancakes straight into his mouth and struggles to chew, cheeks distending with the stretch. “Why did I raise you like this,” she groans, sighing before returning into the kitchen.

Mentally, Minhyuk cheers. _Nice escape_.

Quite apart from that there is the matter of the pancakes stuck in his mouth, and his jaw is already tired from chewing, but well. _Sometimes_ , he thinks soulfully, doing his best to masticate enough to actually swallow, _you just gotta do what you gotta do_.

 

-

 

The sidewalk outside Kihyun's house is beginning to look familiar. Minhyuk comes to a stop outside and kicks Jaeeun's stand out to prop her up, alighting and standing outside a tree.

_Okay. Great. Now what - do I knock? Isn't it obvious I'm here to pick him up for a date that might be weird… Maybe I should call? Oh, but that might feel too impersonal. Is there even anything to be personal about? Ugh. What about if i ask Hans-_

A buzz from his phone makes the decision for him. It’s a message from Kihyun. _Are you here?_

Minhyuk taps out a quick response. _We are here_.

Kihyun’s confusion is palpable. _We?_

 _Jaeeun and me_ , he sends back, stifling a giggle at the groan he knows he must have no doubt elicited.

From inside the house he hears what is unmistakably Kihyun calling a greeting to his mother - then the door is opening and Kihyun is tripping out, waving excitedly at Minhyuk when he spots him. He's in a loose-knit, cream sweater with sleeves that come up over his hands over blue jeans cuffed several times, and when he runs his arms flap by his side, making him look even smaller than he already is.

 _Oh my god. He is_ so _cute._ _What the actual fuck_.

Fondness explodes into his chest, a firework arcing into the sky and combusting in a shower of fire that splits the dark. “Hi Ki,” he says helplessly, arms opening to welcome him with a hug. “You look...nice.”

Kihyun melds into the hug - and stays there. Minhyuk thinks he might die. “Thanks,” he chirps. His lids cast low, lashes long when he says, “Better than you do, anyway.”

Now Minhyuk half pushes him away, affronted. “ _Hey_ ,” he cries. “Take that back! You don’t know what I went through to put this together!”

Kihyun is laughing so hard it takes him a while to gather himself. Minhyuk watches, with some awe, the way he bends double, frame shaking with the full-bodied laugh. When he straightens again he dabs at his eyes with his sleeve, dimples prominent.

“You’re so easy to get,” he says, giggling, “I didn’t mean it. You look good. Really.”

Minhyuk scrunches up his face as far as he can, the way Hyungwon does when you tell him _no, you may_ not _sleep sixteen hours a day_. “Promise?” he asks, petulant.

Kihyun steps back in, patting his cheek consolingly. “Promise,” he says. “Can we go now?”

Minhyuk grouches as he moves aside to let Kihyun take the bike seat, but holds Jaeeun steady anyway, so Kihyun doesn’t accidentally tip over and injure his pretty little self. “You just want a lift,” he accuses, getting into position. “The one you want has been _Jaeeun_ all along.”

Kihyun’s laughter is a warm, lovely sound by the side of his ear as he starts the bike into motion. “This whole time it was Jaeeun I was after,” he says, dropping his head to rest against Minhyuk’s back. “You got me.”

Minhyuk only snorts. Doesn’t say, _I wish I did,_ in reply.

 

-

 

The arcade is on the fourth floor of a mall, not too much of a detour from the route between Kihyun’s house and school. They park and head upstairs, where Minhyuk makes a beeline for the counter, determined to win the neverending bill war this time.

“Oh, hello.” Minhyuk grinds to a halt at the counter when he recognises Hyunwoo, Hoseok’s classmate whom he’s met quite a few times. “You need a card?”

Minhyuk makes an aimless “eeeeeeh” sound for a while as his brain tries to keep up. “Oh wait – no,” he says, patting his pockets until he finds his wallet and produces a membership card from it. “Can I top this up, please?”

Hyunwoo takes it from him with a nod, tapping away rapidly at the monitor in front of him. Truth be told, Minhyuk is on his toes – Even if Hoseok hadn’t known who Kihyun was, Hyunwoo certainly would, and he isn’t really in the mood to deal with any more awkward questions or insinuations about the nature of the whole arrangement, not when he only has a day left.

 _A day and a half_ , his internal romantic squeaks pathetically. _There’s a lot you can do in that time_.

Maybe so, but it isn’t a lot of time, no matter how you look at it. But when Kihyun approaches and pops his head over Minhyuk’s shoulder to look at the counter there is no combustion, no judgment, not even an eyebrow raised in question.

Instead, Hyunwoo says, “Oh, hey Ki.”

Kihyun frowns, but it’s too exaggerated to be serious. “You’re not supposed to say hi to me, remember.”

Hyunwoo finishes topping up the card and hands it to Minhyuk, crossing his arms and leaning his weight against the counter as he does. “Am I no longer the one exception to your rule?” he asks, sounding slightly amused.

Kihyun grows somewhat agitated at the statement. “You don’t even count, hyung – you –“ Then he seems to remember Minhyuk is there, and relaxes all of a sudden, retreating back so he isn’t leaning over the counter and about to start a fight.

He makes a show out of clearing his throat contemptuously, and then demands, “A- _hem._ Give us free soda, please, thank you.”

Hyunwoo looks from Kihyun, to Minhyuk, and then back at Kihyun, this time gaze knowing. But he doesn’t say anything further as he obeys the request, handing them both two large cups, and waves them both off amicably as they head towards the machines, seemingly unperturbed.

“What… was that about,” Minhyuk starts carefully, not liking how he feels like an outsider all of a sudden. Like his image of Kihyun is something he constructed to feed the narrative he wanted to believe for his own needs.

Kihyun takes a long drag from his straw before replying. Minhyuk chews on his lip very hard when he notices the way both of his hands are wrapped around the cup to hold it securely, fingertips poking out from under white knit. “We grew up together,” he explains slowly, “He – well, he’s my neighbour, actually. Anyway he was the first person I dated.”

Well. Everyone starts from somewhere. “Why?” Minhyuk asks. “I mean… uh. Why did you date him, I guess, but also. Why did you, uh –”

“Why did I stop?” Kihyun completes the sentence from him, stopping in front of a _Bishi Bashi_ machine and setting his cup down to indicate his interest in it. “We really only lasted a week. He was the one who pointed it out, actually.”

“Said we’re much more like brothers than anything else and had the chemistry of like, two noble gases or something. Bit of a nerd, if you can’t tell.” The bright, colourful light of the machine flickers on the planes of his face, his gaze trained on the screen as he speaks.

“Oh.” It brings with it a sinking feeling, this knowing. “Do you do this because – do you still –“

Kihyun does turn to look at him now, eyes wide. “Do I still – oh, no, god no.” He cracks a laugh at that, hands waving in the air. “I’m not doing this to get over him or anything, if that’s what you were asking. He was right. Often is, actually, but don’t tell him that.”

He nudges Minhyuk slightly to get him to tap the card to deduct the requisite game credits, manoeuvring the requisite settings to get the game started. “I told you before, right? The week thing is – to know all sorts of people better, and all. Ah, we can try the _Hard_ difficulty, I haven’t done this in a while.”

Minhyuk still feels a bit like a child being lied to, but decides to let it rest. “Loser buys lunch,” he says, assuming his gaming stance. He’s the _god_ of arcade games, damn it, one isn’t a single teenage boy in a suburb for nothing.

Kihyun smirks back, all bravado and smug challenge. The countdown on the screen flashes _3, 2, 1_. “Bring it on.”

 

-

 

“I can’t believe you’re really making me buy lunch,” Kihyun complains, halfheartedly. They’re in the queue at Lotteria for a slightly belated lunch, Minhyuk only having been separable from the machines after a solid two hours because he hadn’t noticed his own stomach was growling so loudly it had become impossible to ignore. “Scratch that, I can’t believe you beat me _that badly_. On everything.”

“Being an arcadegoer is already losing in life, I have to win somehow,” Minhyuk says cheerfully, nudging him in the hip with his own. “Very few have challenged me and survived to tell the tale.”

“Is that so,” Kihyun asks, amused. “Do you really spend that much time here?”

Minhyuk nods in affirmation. “Nothing else to do. I didn’t know Hyunwoo-hyung worked here, though. Then again, I never come on Saturdays…”

“Yeah, he only works here on the weekends,” Kihyun confirms. He flaps his arms against his side as he talks, sweater-pawed hands balled into tiny fists. “I assume this means you’re one of those after-school jacket-over-uniform delinquents.”

“Why does that make me a – _hmph_. You wouldn’t understand what it’s like being single in this economy.”

They’ve reached the counter. There’s a lull in the conversation as Kihyun points out their orders as he speaks to the cashier, and pays with a fake huff in Minhyuk’s direction. After they’ve collected their trays they slide into a booth facing each other, and Kihyun picks up where they had left off, curious.

“So you’ve never dated anyone before this? Like, _never_?”

Minhyuk opens his mouth, then shuts it. “Never,” he confirms.

Kihyun looks like he might have something to say about that. His mouth pretzels until eventually, he asks, “Why?”

Minhyuk peers up at him from where he’s trying to line up six fries against his lower jaw so that when he bites he can obtain a print of his mouth, like budget, edible mold-making. “Why what? Have you seen me?”

“You.” Kihyun points at him with a fry in irritation, in lieu of any actual chastisement. “If you say so,” he sighs, “But also – then – then why me?”

Minhyuk chews slowly, having given up and poured all of the fries into his mouth. “Honestly,” he says, “Hyungwon told me he’ll give me his history notes if I do it.” Then, before Kihyun can respond, he scrambles to add, “As in – as in, he was sick of me pining after you, so he had to offer. Additional incentive, to make me do it, you know?”

He looks down, back at his tray, and latches onto his straw, blowing bubbles into his drink as he continues. “Get it out of my system, and all.”

Just then, his phone vibrates. When the screen lights up he sees it’s a series of messages from Hansol, so, curious, Minhyuk swipes his phone unlocked to read it in its entirety.

 

_hansol_

HYUNG hope ur having a good time i just remembered to ask

my friend myungho’s holding a photog exhibition

if you wanna go it’s next next friday, 6.30pm!

he’s really good promise B)

 

“Hey, Kihyunie, wanna go to my junior’s friend’s exhibition, it’s two weeks from now, he – oh.”

He hadn’t been thinking, reading off the screen directly as he received the message. It’s only when the words leave his mouth that he remembers the nature of their relationship, and suddenly his drink tastes sour, his food soggy and cold.

“When is it again?” Kihyun asks, blinking at him when he looks up and they make eye contact. His mouth is altogether too dry, tongue heavy when he meets Kihyun’s eyes. Minhyuk just shakes his head stubbornly, not wanting to force Kihyun to play along with the charade.

“Nothing,” he says, clicking his screen off and turning his phone to lie face-down on the table surface. He takes a huge bite out of his burger, even though it’s abruptly become tasteless to him. The food weighs on his tongue, heavy and cold.

“Hey, Ki,” he says, gathering all the false bravado he has in his system, “Hurry up and finish so we can get back to the games. I wanna beat your ass at Para Para.”

Kihyun squints at him as if he’s trying to puzzle him out, but then shakes himself out of it, nodding and draining his cup. The rest of his tray is bare, the boy having devoured his food quickly while Minhyuk hadn’t been paying attention.

“Okay,” he says, standing up with his tray and shuffling sideways out of the booth. “You dare challenge me on my territory? Today I might see a victory yet!”

“Big talk, small guy,” Minhyuk quips, smiling even though he isn’t feeling it. “Let’s see how well that stands up under a test.”

“Okay,” Kihyun says, after he’s slid his tray back into the deposit point, “Last one there is a _loser_ -!” The last word has barely left his mouth before he’s racing off, shoes squeaking loudly against the mall’s polished flooring.

Minhyuk whips his head up, mid-tray deposit. “Hey – wait – _Yoo Kihyun, come back here, that’s cheating!_ ” He runs after him, but Kihyun has too much of a headstart, and Minhyuk arrives in a clear second place, to Kihyun cheerfully jeering at him while Hyunwoo watches on, amused.

It’s okay. He gets him back, in the arcade after, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW we are nearly at the FINISH POINT ........... anyway PLEASE feed me comments i promise i read them all i'm just bad at replying but it means a lot to know when people have enjoyed it.... gweeeeehuuuhoooo..... COMEBACK IS COMING CAN I FINISH THIS BY THEN (probably not but i like to be unrealistic about things)


	7. Sunday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyungwon barks a laugh at this, a delighted, squawking sound. “You’re right,” he says, “I lost, fair and square. Maybe things aren’t the same anymore.”
> 
> Minhyuk looks over at him. Realises, for the first time, how much taller Hyungwon is now, a far cry from the runt who used to spend all his time getting ignored in fifth grade. And on the cusp of what Minhyuk knows is going to be his first love – the world changes, and it takes you with it, whether you want it to or not.
> 
> He takes a deep breath in, then lets it out in stages, the sound stuttering against his lungs. “You’re right,” he says, “They’re not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well i lied i managed to churn this out in a day so. HAPPY COMEBACK !!!!!!!!

Sunday morning. Minhyuk wakes up and moves around in something of a daze, thinking _this is the last day_. He doesn’t have anything to do until he meets Kihyun at the local fair at about three, so he paces about his room for something to do, halfheartedly shoving some items into place, picking up yesterday’s clothes off the floor and bringing them to the back to wash.

Their last day together, and he doesn’t even get to see Kihyun for most of it. Minhyuk tries his hardest not to feel bitter as he drops himself into his desk chair, head lolling backwards to rest against its back, staring blankly at his room ceiling. _Stop it, you’re just being a brat now_.

But he’s upset, damn it, and the one person he wants to talk to is also the precise reason he’s having these emotions in the first place. _You went into this eyes open_ , he scolds himself, _you knew what you were getting into_.

He knows. God, he knows, and so does his phone screen, left open to Kihyun and his last interaction, a _goodnight min_ / _night ki:)_ timestamped 3.23 am today. It isn’t fair, he decides, even if he had known all along. It isn’t fair that the only way he could find something like this was on the condition that it would never last.

He knocks the bones of his feet together, listless. The clock on his desk reads _11.26_ , which means he has at least another two and a half hours to kill before he needs to get ready and leave. It hasn’t escaped his attention that Kihyun had asked to meet at the venue, instead of asking him to pick him up when he had seemed so attached to the bike, all the times before.

_Letting me down slowly, huh?_

Exiting Kihyun’s chat before he can give in to the temptation and do something desperate and sad like text him _good morning_ , Minhyuk is about to tap open a mobile game when his notification bar informs him that there is a _new message from hyeonueoni_. He checks his clock again, just to be sure. _11.27 am. Hyungwon, up before noon on a Sunday. The apocalypse is upon us_.

 

_hyeonueoni_

how are you feeling min

_minyokku_

who paid you to get you up this early

_hyeonueoni_

my creature senses were tingling and told me you were in need

.

::::))))

no but seriously

are you good?

 

He wants to cry. He knows he’s been doing quite a lot of that, recently, but he can’t help the way his heart _aches_ all of a sudden, heavy with the weight of all he hadn’t known he was missing before, that he will miss painfully soon. This was never supposed to happen; the fact that it has is a failing on his part, a dire miscalculation.

 

_minyokku_

honestly

no

_hyeonuoeni_

im calling

 

When his phone begins to ring Minhyuk doesn’t waste any time before picking it up, flopping down onto his bed and hugging his whale plushie to his chest. It looks soulfully up at him and his voice cracks a little when he says, cautiously, “Hyungwonnie?”

Hyungwon’s voice is like coming home after a long day. “What have you done to yourself now,” he scolds gently, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this.”

He doesn’t collapse into tears, but it’s a close thing. Minhyuk burrows deep into his blankets and stays there. “I miss him,” he says, miserably.

Hyungwon is silent for a while on the other end. “I shouldn’t have made you do this. I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t apologise,” Minhyuk mumbles, “Neither of us could’ve known I would f- it would be like this.”

Hyungwon sighs. “We couldn’t have known, indeed,” he murmurs. “When are you meeting him?”

He flops over. “Three pm. At the park, you know the one. Near the big bridge.”

“Ah, the fair.” He can’t see him, but he can imagine the way Hyungwon is nodding wisely to himself like a sage, a strange habit he’s always had. It soothes the ache, a little bit. “Do you want me to go over and distract you for a while? We can go cycle, or terrorise your mom, or something.”

Minhyuk hiccups a small, grateful laugh. “Yeah, we could go cycle,” he says, “Haven’t done that in a long while.”

“Not since the great Bike Crash of 2016, huh.” Hyungwon’s gravelly tone is warm to the touch. “Whatever happened to our weekly races? Hold on, I –“ His voice grows distant for a little bit. “I have the score written down in a notebook somewhere…”

Minhyuk distinctly remembers Hyungwon was in the lead. “That’s fine!” he squeaks, “We don’t have to continue the old score!”

“Shh…hold on…” A rustling sound follows on the other end of the receiver. “Ha! Got it! Hyungwonnie SIXTY FOUR, Minhyuk forty two. I’m winning as usual, huh?”

Unbidden, an image of Hoseok and the way he looks at Hyungwon flashes into his mind. “Yeah,” Minhyuk says, trying his best to sound cheerful, “Hyungwons always win.”

But Hyungwon isn’t buying any of _that_ , either. “Minhyuk. Stop that right now.”

“Stop what?”

“I can _hear_ you thinking sad thoughts and I won’t have it. Hear me? I’ll be over in a second. Just wait for me, okay?”

Minhyuk curls up into himself until he can’t curl in anymore. “Okay.”

 

-

 

“You _won_ ,” Hyungwon complains, outraged. “I can’t believe my legs are three times the length of yours and you still _won_.”

Minhyuk would be worried Hyungwon had let him win to make him feel better if it weren’t for how fast he’d seen his lanky creature legs go. “I did,” he agrees. Turning, he blows a kiss towards his bike where it’s parked against the side of a tree. “Jaeeun-ah, I love you!”

Hyungwon stretches out his legs and looks at his feet with great concentration, like it’s his first time meeting them. “I never named _my_ bike,” he says. “Also, Jaeeun is newer. That must be it.”

Minhyuk snorts. “A good workman never blames his tools,” he intones sagely. “In simple Korean, that means _accept your losses, fool_.”

Hyungwon barks a laugh at this, a delighted, squawking sound. “You’re right,” he says, “I lost, fair and square. Maybe things aren’t the same anymore.”

Minhyuk looks over at him. Realises, for the first time, how much taller Hyungwon is now, a far cry from the runt who used to spend all his time getting ignored in fifth grade. And on the cusp of what Minhyuk knows is going to be his first love – the world changes, and it takes you with it, whether you want it to or not.

He takes a deep breath in, then lets it out in stages, the sound stuttering against his lungs. “You’re right,” he says, “They’re not.”

Hyungwon looks at him, then, moving in closer on the bench, sideways. He nudges Minhyuk lightly with his shoulder so he looks up at him. His familiar, round eyes are gentle to match his tone when he says, “Hey.”

Minhyuk huffs with more bravado than he really feels, but leans in towards Hyungwon anyway, arms wrapped around his own midsection. “Hey yourself,” he grumbles.

“I know what you’re trying to do, and it’s not going to work on me,” Hyungwon sing-songs, throwing one long arm around Minhyuk’s shoulders. “Listen, Min, it’s not the end of the world.”

Minhyuk wriggles into the hold, turning his face into the crook of Hyungwon’s neck, where he burrows, even though it’s slightly damp with sweat from their park shenanigans. They’ve dogpiled each other in mud; this doesn’t even compare. “It certainly feels like it,” he says, “There’s so much, Hyungwonnie. There’s so much and I don’t know what to do. I don’t even know if I really want to see him later because – because how can I face him and act like everything is fine when I know after this I’ll never see him again?”

Hyungwon folds the arm that is around Minhyuk’s shoulders so his overlarge hand is resting squarely on the top of Minhyuk’s head. The weight is comforting; he closes his eyes and listens to Hyungwon’s voice rumbling through his collarbone.

“You won’t… not see him ever again,” he says, with all the tone of a man who knows he is bailing water with a pail out of a sinking boat. “It’s just… that you won’t talk, but it’s not like he’s going to go away forever. You’ll see him around. Drop all of your textbooks so he can pick them up for you, and stuff.”

It hits Minhyuk with despair when he realises his eyes are beginning to burn. “That might be worse,” he says quietly, “I might prefer it if he – if he would just go away, altogether.”

Hyungwon’s hand smacks him lightly, as if to chastise him. “That’s a selfish thing to think,” he reminds him, but then placatingly strokes his hair after in something resembling an apology. “I mean… isn’t it possible that he _won’t_ pull the one week thing on you? Maybe – maybe he likes you too, like… you don’t know that he doesn’t.”

“He’s dated half the people in school and nobody’s ever escaped any of his rules, he –“ Minhyuk squeezes his eyes shut and heaves a massive exhale as he crushes his own hopes.

“The only one who escaped his no-contact-afterwards rule is his best friend first love type scenario, and I’m not _special_ , ‘Won. Never have been. I – I talked to Hansol about it, and everything we’ve done is just what he does with everyone. It’s like a formula, a laundry list, or something – go somewhere they like, check, go to the movies, check, visit the arcade, check, check, check.”

He pauses, inhaling deeply again, free hand scrabbling for Hyungwon’s so he can squeeze it. It turns white with the pressure, but his friend, usually so quick to eschew discomfort, doesn’t make a sound. “I don’t know how anyone before this ever survived without going mad, don’t know how half of the school isn’t impossibly in love with him, because right now – right now the way I’m feeling – I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.”

Hyungwon snorts, rubbing a thumb over his hand when he’s let up on the pressure. “Not even Bumsoo?”

Minhyuk groans aloud. “ _Especially_ not Bumsoo, I don’t think he deserves to know what Kihyun looks like when he’s talking about something he likes. He just lights up, it’s -” He cuts himself off, abruptly. “It’s really something,” he finishes lamely.

The silence drags between them for a while. A sparrow lands on the floor a few feet away, and cocks its head curiously at them both. Hops closer, inspecting Hyungwon’s shoes, then soon grows bored, taking flight towards the trees. Minhyuk watches it as it goes, and tries to fight the inexplicable melancholy that follows.

“I still don’t know if that’s really all the case,” Hyungwon finally says, evenly. “But I think you should try your best to have fun today, and then afterwards – afterwards, if it all goes to shit – you know I’ll be here, right? The way I always have. Always will.”

Minhyuk pulls away, shaking off Hyungwon’s hand as he makes to stand. “You have Hoseok-hyung now,” he says, petulantly. “You won’t have any more time for me, you asshole.”

Hyungwon jumps to his feet and _smacks_ Minhyuk in the shoulder, outraged. “Don’t call me an asshole, asshole,” he cries. Then, more seriously, he adds, “Dating somebody doesn’t mean they become your whole world and they displace all your friends, you know? That’s just wrong – nobody’s ever going to replace you. Not your little bitch ass.”

Touched, Minhyuk barrels in for a hug so rapidly that Hyungwon staggers when he catches him. “That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me, insult included,” he simpers. “Thanks, Hyungwon. You’re the best.”

Hyungwon hugs him very tightly for a moment, then lets go, shoving him away like he’s a first grader concerned about cooties. “I know,” he says. “So chin up, soldier, and let’s go.”

 

-

 

Despite having lost track of time, Minhyuk makes it to where he’d agreed to meet Kihyun only a few minutes late. He heaves a few laboured breaths as he parks Jaeeun in the bike lot and jogs to the big tree right by one of the entrances to the temporary fairgrounds, patting himself down to make sure he hasn’t left anything behind, fixing his hair, checking his reflection hurriedly in his phone camera.

All good, then. When he looks up he sees Kihyun already there, dressed in a soft grey cardigan over a t-shirt and light-wash mom jeans. Curiously enough he’s paired this outfit with Converse high-tops, visible when he tilts forward onto the balls of his feet and the cuffs of his jeans rise. Minhyuk thinks it’s cute, anyhow, knows he’s a goner when this complete and utter disrespect for basic fashion rules is _endearing_.

Kihyun is rocking to and fro on the balls of his feet, arms crossed, looking around – presumably for him. Minhyuk swallows all of his spare emotions as he approaches him, calling, “Hey, Ki.”

When Kihyun turns he looks briefly surprised before his expression settles into a pleasant smile. “You came.”

Confused, Minhyuk stops. “What? Of course I – huh?”

“I thought - nevermind,” Kihyun says quickly, shaking his head. He holds his hand out for Minhyuk to take. “Come on,” he hums, “Let’s go.”

The fair, as it goes, is pretty standard. It’s crowded with people of every age, so it takes quite a bit of jostling to get around, and they have to raise their voices to be heard over the crowd.

They get hot dogs to chew on as they walk around, hands linked; Minhyuk tries his best not to think too hard and focuses on asking Kihyun as much about himself as he can, because if he can’t have him, then he wants to at least remember him properly.

Eventually they come upon a carousel. Minhyuk stops immediately in his tracks, causing Kihyun to lurch forward and be pulled backwards abruptly by their linked hands, turning in confusion. “Min?”

Minhyuk points at it, a slightly shabby thing with the colours only mostly correctly painted, decked out in fluorescent lights far brighter than strictly necessary. “Let’s go on that,” he suggests. Doesn’t say _I want to have this memory_.

Kihyun cocks his head critically as he regards it. But then he looks at Minhyuk’s expectant expression, and visibly his resistance crumbles; shaking his head, he tugs Minhyuk in its direction. “Come on,” he says, gently, “Get in line.”

The line is a little longer than expected. Minhyuk doesn’t really know what to say, so he takes out his phone and scrolls aimlessly through messages, trying to find the courage to continue feeling upbeat and not like he’s got his head laid out on a guillotine, waiting for someone to take him. After a pause Kihyun takes his out, too, and they fall into quiet for a while.

“Min – yesterday you were saying – your friend’s photography exhibition,” Kihyun starts, all of a sudden, sounding uncharacteristically hesitant. “When was it again? We should – I’d like to go.”

Minhyuk feels his heartbeat rocket to a deafening roar in his ears all of a sudden. “You and I both know you don’t,” he says, trying his best not to sound as bitter as he looks anywhere but Kihyun. “It’s – it’s two Fridays from now, not – it’s fine, Ki, you don’t have to pretend.”

Quickly he turns back to face the front of the queue. Before Kihyun can say anything more, the men manning the queue count them in for the ride, and they’re on. Minhyuk chooses a magnificent stallion with slightly disconcerting green eyes, which relegates Kihyun to a nearly child’s sized pony beside it, bright pink but at least with the right number of ears.

“Like pony like rider,” Minhyuk teases, damping down the cocktail of confusion-anger-disappointment that is catching in his throat.

Kihyun looks almost afraid when he looks up at him, but smiles tentatively, brows upturned. “A hideous shade of pink?”

That gets a proper chortle out of Minhyuk, who shakes his head. “No, silly,” he says, unable to keep the fondness out of his voice. “Tiny.”

Kihyun turns to him. “How tall _are_ you, anyway,” he demands, twisting his entire body around waist-up, “You keep calling me small – which I am _not_ , and frankly until your claims are backed up by evidence I’m not sure I can take any more of this sland- _aaaaah_!”

He flails dramatically, eyes blown wide in surprise as the horses begin moving and he’s nearly thrown off. Clutching the horse’s ear with one hand and bringing a hand to his chest with the other, Kihyun takes a while to recover.

Something moves Minhyuk’s hand; at the sound of a _click_ Kihyun turns with an expression of utmost betrayal and a pointed finger that is only made funnier by the fact that he is gently being moved up and down by the equine oscillations. “ _Delete that at once_ ,” he commands, “I _know_ I look stupid.”

Minhyuk inspects it, and laughs to himself. “Maybe you do,” he coos, “Maybe you don’t. That’s for me to know and for you to find out.”

Exasperated, Kihyun looks at him, shaking his head. “You’re impossible,” he tells him, “There is seriously nobody who pulls the shit you do.”

He’s joking, Minhyuk knows. He’s joking, but it doesn’t stop the voice inside his head that wonders how long it is that Kihyun’s thought of him like this, whether he’s only been tolerating him all this while. Hansol’s message rings aloud in his head. _He’s nice like that, you know?_

_Stop it_. Minhyuk sticks his tongue out instead of replying, but tucks his phone back into his pocket as a form of consolation. “Eyes on the road, pardner,” he chides, “You don’t wanna fall off again.”

Kihyun huffs, but his grip on the pole visibly tightens. “You nearly fall off a carousel _once_ and people never let you live it down ever,” he grumbles.

Eventually the ride of doom does end. They get off – Minhyuk helping Kihyun down to much protest from the latter – and amble aimlessly back into the heart of the festivities, buying candy floss to share and then bottled water to wash their hands with, after, when their fingers and cheeks are sticky with melted candy that won’t come off. Minhyuk learns the hard way that rubbing at it only makes it worse.

The day lengthens, and it grows darker. “I’m tired of all the people,” Minhyuk announces suddenly, feeling the end coming upon him with the growing chill. “Why don’t we go somewhere less crowded?”

Kihyun slides his gaze over to him, unreadable. He opens his mouth to speak, but it’s a while before he says, softly, “Okay. The bridge is that way.”

As they make their way over they are both uncharacteristically quiet. Minhyuk is desperately wracking his brain for a conversation topic when he hears a “Hyung!” in a familiar voice – when he glances up he sees a group of three boys coming towards them.

The one who had spoken is none other than Hansol, who’s waving at him with excitedly – Changkyun and a friend of them both whom he knows as Jooheon round off the trio, and Minyhuk turns to welcome them as they jog towards him. Kihyun lets out a soft _oh_ when he sees who it is, and steps away for a little bit, blending into the crowd.

“Hey guys,” Minhyuk greets, pleasant despite the unfortunate timing. “What’re you doing here?”

“Having fun, same as you are,” Jooheon replies. He nudges Changkyun in the side as he says, “Kkungie over here has been eating from _every_ stall. He’s at sixteen; we’re betting he’ll give up before twenty, but he’s determined to prove us wrong.”

Changkyun looks affronted, to say the least. “I shall not be bested by anything as mere as physical limitations,” he tells them, even though he looks a little green in the face. Then his gaze grows a little distant. “Ah, hold on, I see cup corn. I haven’t had that yet. Let me just…”

Hansol grabs hold of Jooheon then, whispering rapidly in his ear. Jooheon’s eyes grow into round _o_ s to match his mouth as he listens, and then Hansol’s turning to Minhyuk, palms turned out in front of his chest in an apology.

“Shit, hyung, I forgot you were – it’s Sunday, we shouldn’t hold you up, so…” He slowly begins to drag his friend away. “See you around?”

Minhyuk smiles weakly, waving at them both. “Yeah,” he tells them, “See you around.”

He turns around and casts about for a while before he finds Kihyun, who is standing awkwardly in the shadow of an ice cream stand. “Sorry about that, Ki,” he says, “Just – juniors. Let’s go?”

Kihyun shakes his head. “That’s alright,” he says, “You have a lot of friends.”

He doesn’t really know what to say to that, so he stays silent, drinking in the dimming sounds of the fair as they get further from its centre. The bridge they’re headed for is a wide, arched wooden construction at the east end of the park, and soon it comes into view. Minhyuk wills his rapidly hammering heart to slow, and walks ahead of them both, slowing to a stop only when they’ve reached its centre.

This is when he turns to Kihyun, takes a step back, and says, “Okay, so how do you do this?”

When Kihyun looks up at him and doesn’t say anything, Minhyuk feels a first spark of irritation at the base of his lungs, swelling in his chest. “I’ve only seen you do it the once, so you’re going to have to lead the way,” he continues. “Kihyun, please.”

Kihyun opens his mouth, then shuts it. “Minhyuk,” he says, “Minhyuk, there’s a lot I want to tell you. Please.”

Suddenly impatient, Minhyuk doesn’t want to hear it. “What is there to tell? You date people for a week – seven days – and then after that all bets are off, right? Make this easier for me to understand, but – but my seven days are up, so.” He stops, and swallows around the lump in his throat. “So can you please do us the honours?”

Kihyun’s hand jerks, an aborted forward-reaching moment. “Minhyuk,” he says, “I know this is a lot, but can you let me talk for a while?” He pauses. “Please?”

The sun has set; Minhyuk pulls his jacket closer around him and zips it up to ward off the chill. “Fine,” he says, tired, remembering the knowing look in Hansol’s eyes. “Go ahead. Do what you want.”

“I think I have to start with – with Hyunwoo-hyung,” Kihyun starts, slowly. “Why I started this whole thing. He – when he dumped me after a week, he told me I had no idea what I was looking for.”

He pauses, glances up to check Minhyuk is still listening before continuing. “This was in, like, last year of middle school. And then I realised he was right, so. So this comes round to this whole – whole getting to know people better thing.”

Kihyun keeps talking, staring off somewhere to the left of Minhyuk’s head, resolutely not meeting his eye. “I mean, he told me I was insane and that was _not_ what he meant, but I thought it was a great idea, anyway, and no hero-worship-ex-crush of mine is going to dissuade me from a brilliant idea once I’ve gotten it. So – that’s how this all started. The … Casanova rep and all were just incidental things I didn’t consider, and then I just rolled with it, I guess.”

“Okay,” Minhyuk concedes. “Thanks for the history lesson. What’s – what’s the point of this?” _To let me down easier?_

Kihyun looks genuinely frustrated for a moment. But he takes Minhyuk’s implicit permission to continue, shaking his head slightly as if to say, _hold on_. “And the whole thing about not talking to them ever after – I don’t know if it might make sense to you, Hyunwoo-hyung definitely laughed at me for it, but.”

He takes a deep breath. “I think people are more honest if they think there’s nothing to lose. If they know they don’t have to impress me past the week, they’re just going to take what I have and run with it, and that makes everything simpler, you know?”

“And I guess – administratively – it means things are easier, too, I don’t get messages that I have to second guess past a certain point, it’s no strings attached for everybody. We go into this knowing what’s going to happen. They get to be treated however they want for a week, and I – I get to see people better.”

He looks up now, hesitantly, pulling his sleeves over his hands and trapping them with his thumbs. “I got so used to it, things not being that deep, but with you – you made me feel things, Minhyuk, and it. It makes me scared.”

Minhyuk has to speak before the pressure in his chest explodes from all the stress. “Why are you telling me this,” he demands, at first quietly, cold.

“Why do you want me to – to know, _now_ , of all times, when we’re going to – we.” He can’t finish the sentence over the sound of the tides crashing about his skull, a desperate, angry roar, and it breaks with something resembling a sob. “You can’t be that cruel.”

Kihyun inhales sharply, and it causes a small squeak to break into the space between them. “Minhyuk,” he tries again. “Min, _listen_. I – what I’ve been trying to say all along is. That I’ve been trying to find someone to love, and I think – I think that person could be you.”

It hangs in the air between them, a tremulous confession. Suddenly docile, Minhyuk looks at him and says nothing, face unreadable. Then a group of friends walks past them, joking and laughing, walking into the glow of the lamplight and then back out, paying them absolutely no heed. This moment, so massive, so incomprehensibly immense, is nothing from the outside: it is so devastatingly small.

“When do you usually end it on Sunday,” Minhyuk asks at length, “Is there a set time?”

Kihyun stares at him, speechless, for a while. Finally, he replies, “No, it’s – it’s up to the person.”

Minhyuk slides his phone out of his pocket. “Then let’s break up at eight pm, on the dot,” he says softly, voice not shaking.

Kihyun glances at his own, heart hollow in his chest when he sees the time. _7.59pm_.

“Min,” he says quietly, “No. Minhyuk.” Breathes in, breathes out. “Okay.” He barely has the time to scan Minhyuk over again, cataloguing the muss of his hair, the fine, elegant line of his brows, his delicate mouth. He glances at his phone screen, and catches the moment the display flickers, sealing the end.

_8.00pm_.

“This – this is over.”

It’s strange, how mundane a great ending can seem. Kihyun makes to turn, then, but Minhyuk catches him by the sleeve, gently holding him in place. “Ki. Wait. Don’t go.”

Kihyun swivels back into place, and Minhyuk lets go, his hand dragging down the sleeve and coming painfully close to Kihyun’s own as he does.

“Now that we’re not bound by whatever that was,” he says softly, “Will you be my boyfriend?”

Kihyun’s lower lip begins to quiver as he takes a step closer, his face set into something very close to a frown. “Minhyuk,” he starts, “Please say you’re serious. I – I wouldn’t know what to do if you weren’t, so please. Please tell me you aren’t fucking with me right now.”

The lost look in his eyes is heartbreaking. At this distance Minhyuk can take hold of him, placing his hands on either side of his waist. “I’m not joking - I promise I mean it,” he affirms.

“So... do you want to? We can have another go – this time, for real. If you w- if that’s okay with you.”

Kihyun pushes forwards into his chest, seizing him in an impossibly tight grip, burying his head into the crook of his neck. “You motherfucker,” he complains, “Breaking up with me like that. I thought you seriously – yes, I can’t believe you had to ask. Yes. Are _you_ sure you want to be stuck with me is the question, I don’t even –“

Minhyuk shifts in his arms, just enough to turn his face and press a kiss to the crown of Kihyun’s head. “You’re an absolute idiot,” he tells him fondly, “Of course I do.”

 

-

 

“Are you really the one who got Yoo Kihyun to settle down,” Bumsoo asks without preamble, twisting around in his seat to look Minhyuk in the eye. It’s in the middle of math class when he does this, and Minhyuk has to pause in squinting angrily at an integral to squint angrily at Bumsoo instead, vaguely annoyed at being distracted in a subject he has to actually pay attention in.

“If you’re asking if he’s my proper boyfriend now, then yes,” he responds, drumming his pen on the table with a small amount of irritation. “But, y’know, I really don’t think you should keep talking about him like that, least of all to me.”

Bumsoo looks suitably chastised, surprisingly enough. “Sorry – you’re right,” he says. Minhyuk is about to regard the conversation as over and return to circling out the portions of the exercise that he’s going to force Kihyun to explain to him later when Bumsoo speaks up again, softer than before.

“Uh, listen, dude. I’m – I’m happy for you. Like… I know I said some shit but like…” He trails off. “Congrats, man.”

Minhyuk actually snorts out loud in what is equal parts surprise and incredulity. “Thanks, I think,” he says, “He's. He's a really good guy.”

Bumsoo offers him an awkward smile before turning back to jot down a few notes from the whiteboard. When his back is turned Hyungwon leans over and jabs Minhyuk in the side. “What was that about,” he whisper-hisses, only it's Hyungwon, so it's loud enough to cause the other three students sitting around them to glance at him in a mixture of curiosity and annoyance.

Minhyuk shakes his head. _Nothing_ , he mouths, and then, correcting himself, _I'll tell you later_.

 

 

After school, they're walking out of class when Hyungwon nudges him with his whole body, causing Minhyuk to toddle sideways and barely miss the classroom door in his misplaced balance. When he glances back, offended, Hyungwon salutes awkwardly by way of apology. “What was Bumsoo talking to you about?”

Minhyuk rolls his eyes, then bumps into Hyungwon in revenge. “He just wanted to know if Ki and I were really official, that's all.”

“Hee hee hee,” Hyungwon says - not laughs, _says_ , pronouncing each word with astounding clarity. “You guys are the talk of the school now, it's kind of insane.”

Minhyuk screws up his face unhappily. “I know, I can't stand it, everyone's been staring at me weird. The other day I found a letter in my locker from someone who was really upset they didn't get a turn before I, I quote, ‘took him off the market’. As if he's some kind of product! What the hell.”

Hyungwon pats him placatingly on the shoulder. “There, there,” he soothes, “It's only been like, three weeks. They'll get over it soon enough, I'm sure.”

“I sure hope so,” Minhyuk mutters glumly. “But even if they don't… I think he's worth it.”

“You're disgusting,” Hyungwon groans aloud, sinking his face into one massive hand. “Completely reprehensi - hey, come back here!”

As the school gate pulls into view so has Kihyun's form, leaning against a tree by the side and using his phone as he waits for Minhyuk. At the sound of his name being called Hyungwon can see him look up, first in surprise - then delight - then laughing affection, eyes squeezed shut as he catches Minhyuk, who's taken a running leap to launch himself straight into his arms, emitting a squeal that would put dolphins to shame the entire way.

Hyungwon sighs as he slowly strolls up to them. Minhyuk is holding Kihyun by the waist, pulling back to look him in the eye, and the faces Hyungwon sees there are twin reflections of mutual adoration, the two of them too caught up in each other to realise he's arrived.

“Ahem.” Hyungwon clears his throat when he does reach them, doing his best to sound unamused. “I'm right here, guys, can you please.”

Minhyuk glances away from Kihyun long enough to act confused. “Did you hear that, Ki? I think a breeze just blew by. If only I knew what it said…”

Kihyun snorts and shoves him in the chest, disentangling the two of them so he can greet Hyungwon properly. “Sorry about him,” Kihyun apologises, “He hasn't been broken in yet.”

From off to Kihyun's side there is a wounded _Heyyy_ that they both ignore in favour of turning towards Hoseok, who is approaching them now, wide smile breaking across his gentle, soft face. “Sorry I'm late guys, I had to ask Mr Kim something.”

Hyungwon skips a step or two to meet Hoseok. Shyly, he says, “That's okay. It's good that you're so focused on your studies. We didn't wait long, anyway.”

Hoseok beams back, a flower blooming in the sun. “Thanks for being so understanding, Wonnie.”

“I can _hear you_ , and you have _no right_ to call _me_ gross,” Minhyuk calls from the safety of the shade. “ _None,_ you hear me?” There is a thwack, presumably delivered by Kihyun. “... _Ow_.”

“ _Anyway_ ,” Kihyun is saying, coming up to them both with a sorrowful looking Minhyuk in tow, “We should get going. The half day pass starts after 4pm, so if we leave now we should be just in time to get in and make the most of it, yeah?”

Behind him, Minhyuk perks up. “Theme park, theme park,” he cheers, “And Hyungwonnie's paying for my share!”

“You're so noisy,” Hyungwon mutters, “I shouldn't even have to, you literally got a boyfriend out of it.” The four of them begin the walk towards the station, each couple linking hands.

“No take backsies,” Minhyuk shoots back, lunging forward to stick his tongue out in Hyungwon's face.

This time it's Hoseok who swats Minhyuk away, with a laughing _hey_. Hyungwon sticks _his_ tongue out at Minhyuk from behind him, emboldened by the victory of having their beloved club chairperson on his side. Defeated, Minhyuk escapes to hide behind Kihyun, who only rolls his eyes, scolding him gently for deserving it.

Spring is unfolding, the first small pink cherry blossoms unfurling upon tree branches. Around them the birds are about, calling raucously to each other in song;  in the late afternoon, the sun shines bright.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and with that, we're done with this baby.... all 30k words of her... gah I want to say thank you to everybody who has kept reading throughout. it's honestly extremely difficult to keep writing without affirmation, so to all of you who leave tiny little notes of encouragement or kudos... thank you very much. above all, I guess this is for you.
> 
> anyway, this Has been a journey. the dance we shouldn't do and this were both mostly. me trying out writing chaptered fiction for the first time, and now I think I have a slightly better idea of what it means I will most likely be trying to plan a much bigger project in future. for that my chapters are going to have to be larger and updates far less frequent (I finished all 7 chapters of this in... just over three weeks? Damn) so if you do see me then, please drop by and say hello and let me know you're reading so I can keep going...
> 
> again, thank you very much, and I hope you enjoyed. let me know what made you laugh, what made you cry, and of course. [You know where to find me.](http://twitter.com/frogbabey)

**Author's Note:**

> [i may be found here ](http://twitter.com/frogbabey)


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